The Oldest Enemy by Michael Jack Webb

Author:Michael Jack Webb [Webb, Michael Jack]
Language: eng
Format: epub
Publisher: Michael Jack Webb Books
Published: 2014-08-12T22:00:00+00:00

21

David stared out the window of the cabin at the falling snow, lost in thought.

He barely noticed that the white powder was already several inches thick in places and that it was growing deeper by the minute.

His dad had made a large pot of chili and fresh cornbread for dinner. The three of them had eaten until they were stuffed. When Lauren started on her third bowl, David’s dad shot him a questioning glance, but he’d just smiled and shrugged.

After dinner they had gone into the living room, where Michael served Lauren and himself large, steaming mugs of exotic Honduran coffee with lots of cream and sugar, and David some wild-flowers-and-honey tea, his favorite.

Before sitting down, he’d gone back into the kitchen and returned with three of the biggest slices of apple pie David had ever seen.

When they’d finished eating the pie, his dad cleared the empty plates and headed for the kitchen to clean up. Both he and Lauren had offered to help, but his dad would have none of it. “I rarely get visitors these days,” he said, “and I rather like being the host. You two relax and enjoy the fire.”

As soon as he left, Lauren rose and headed toward the guest bedroom. “I’m going to change into something more comfortable. I’ll be back.”

Alone now, David stared out the window, wondering where Landers was and what he was doing. He hoped the older man had not gotten in over his head. In spite of his frustration with Landers’s odd behavior, he was starting to like the enigmatic stranger. The man had qualities he could not help but admire.

Also, David had a sense the wiry Jew might hold the key to solving Beth’s murder.

With that thought came another: Remember Dresden.

Those two words had haunted him for days.

When Detective Blanchard first questioned him about the phrase, immediately after Beth’s body had been found, it meant nothing to him. When he’d talked with his dad about it on the phone, memory had begun to stir, but he still hadn’t put the pieces together. It was only when he’d seen the words written in blood on the wall of the church that he finally remembered where he’d heard the phrase before.

During the investigation of Ashley’ murder, one of the detectives had asked him if the phrase Remember Dresden meant anything to him. It hadn’t. Later, after the charges were dismissed against him, he’d pulled some strings and gotten permission to view the police files.

The phrase had been found scrawled in blood on a piece of paper beneath Ashley’s body.

It was obviously some kind of message, but the police had never been able to figure out to whom, or for what purpose. He’d had his own ideas at the time, but they’d never panned out.

The fact that the phrase had surfaced again six years later, over fifteen hundred miles away, and connected with the murder of another woman he knew, made it highly unlikely it was merely coincidence. He knew that in

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