Page 42 of Left Behind

“There were two cameras aimed in that direction,” Louis said.

“I’m sending an officer down there right now. Tell Waylon Parker to make me copies, and thanks,” Sonny said.

“Sure thing,” Louis said. “I just clocked out. I’ll help him find the guy on the footage before I leave.”

As soon as they ended the call, Louis headed straight for the manager’s office, knocked, then walked in and told him what they needed and why. Minutes later, they were in the back room of his office going through the most recent footage from those two cameras.

“There! That’s him walking in,” Louis said. “And that’s him walking all the way past all those empty stools to the one at the far end. The chief is going to want everything he’s on, okay? And if you can find him driving up or driving away, it would help them identify what he was driving as well.”

“Got it!” Waylon said, and sat down at the computer as Louis walked out.

When the officer arrived and asked for the manager, Waylon came out carrying a flash drive. “This is what Sonny wanted,” he said.

“Thanks,” the officer said. He dropped the drive into an evidence bag and left.

Waylon wondered what was going on, and then shook it off. Anything to do with criminal activity made him nervous.

As soon as the flash drive landed on Sonny’s desk, he quickly plugged it into his computer and started watching. Almost immediately, he thought the man looked familiar. He cropped a headshot and ran it through the database.

It didn’t take long for facial recognition to make him.

“Holy shit,” Sonny muttered. “That’s Carl Henley’s boy.”

Henley was a well-to-do businessman in Bowling Green, but long suspected to be involved in the drug trade, although they’d never been able to pin anything on him.

Sonny saved the footage, then emailed it to Sheriff Woodley with a long detailed message, then sent the screenshot of Henley’s face to the guard on duty at the hospital with a warning, then sent the same thing to hospital security, with a warning not to let that man in the hospital or give him any indication that Carey Eggers was even there.

This was a worst-case scenario evolving before their eyes, and the moment Rance Woodley got the message and saw the footage, he sent it straight to Detective Gardner.

***

Junior was on his Bluetooth, talking to his daddy as he headed out of Jubilee.

“Daddy, it’s me. I’m headed back,” Junior said.

“What did you find out?” Carl asked.

“The woman’s not dead. Some people found her and she’s in the hospital in Jubilee. I don’t know details.”

There was a long silence.

Junior got antsy. “Daddy? You still there?”

“Yes. I’ll tend to it from here. Just get on home.”

“On the way,” Junior said, disconnected, then burped. The jalapeños on his nachos were playing hell. His belly was starting to burn, and so was Carl’s, but for a different reason.

Carl picked up the phone to call Gunny, then stopped.

The worst that could happen was Gunny being identified and picked up for the murder. If that happened, it put Carl in jeopardy, because Gunny could link him. What he needed to do was get rid of Gunny and let the woman alone. He needed to think about this. Whatever happened to Gunny needed to look like an accident.

***

Gunny felt the walls closing in. He didn’t know where the woman was, but she surely had to be dead. But the longer he sat, the more uncertain he became. He knew his DNA was going to be on Billy, because he hadn’t gone in there to fight with anyone, let alone kill them, so he hadn’t gloved up. He could explain away his DNA being there because he and Eggers were acquaintances. He could even sell the story that they’d had an argument, but nothing he would have ever killed him for.

He’d already removed his prints from the gun and the remaining ammo before he took them back to Henley. And the truck he’d been driving for the past month was not his. It belonged to Junior Henley. He’d won it from him in a poker game, but Junior had only given him the keys and never signed over the title. It seemed like a good time to return the truck to its legal owner—after he had it wiped clean of his prints. Then everything connected to the Eggers murder would be on Henley premises. Henley had called him dumbass, then called him boy. Henley had, by God, threatened him. He didn’t take that shit from anybody.

Gunny’s knee was mostly healed, but a little stiff. He winced as he stood up, glanced around the apartment, and knew it was time to disappear. All he needed to take were his clothes and his money stash. The furniture was used when he bought it, so he took a deep breath and headed for the bedroom, thinking, There’s no time like the present.

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