Page 60 of Left Behind

It rang three times before Carl picked up.

“This is Carl.”

“It’s me. They’ve interviewed Eggers’s sister and completely eliminated her as a possible witness. She never saw the man who shot her brother and heard nothing but a fight and the gunshot before she ran. She never saw the man who shot her in the back. They have crossed her off the list. But…they have identified the shooter from DNA under Eggers’s nails and prints found at the scene. They’re putting out an arrest warrant for Lonny Joe Pryor.”

“Thank you,” Carl said, and hung up, but he was already in cleanup mode, and he wasn’t leaving this to chance. His instincts had been right. He had to get rid of Gunny before the cops arrested him. As far as he knew, Gunny didn’t know the woman was alive. But he knew how to get rid of Gunny. The man didn’t go out to eat, ever. He ordered everything from restaurants and had the food delivered. It was the only crack in Gunny’s wall, and Carl was about to slip through it. All he needed to know was if Gunny was home, so he ordered a pizza to be delivered in person, as confirmation that he was home before Carl paid him a little visit. Instead, he got a call informing him that Lonny Pryor was no longer in residence at that address, and what did he want to do with the pizza?

“What do you mean, he’s no longer in residence?” Carl asked.

“You said to hand deliver the pizza, so when he didn’t come to the door, I knocked on a neighbor’s door and found out the man’s gone. The landlord already has the apartment up for rent again.”

The hair stood up on the back of Carl’s neck.

“Enjoy the pizza,” he muttered, and disconnected, then stared out the window in front of him, trying to decide if this was good news or bad news, when he heard the doorbell and then the housekeeper’s footsteps going to answer.

Now the foyer was echoing from the loud voices. He stepped out into the hall to see what was happening and saw cops swarming all over the entryway.

“What the hell is going on here?” he shouted, then heard Junior charging down the stairs behind him.

“Daddy! What’s happening?”

Detective Gardner took pleasure in handing over the search warrants.

“Carl Henley, we have a warrant to search your house, and Junior Henley, this is a warrant to search your truck.”

“You can’t just search my house for no reason,” Carl roared.

“We have reason. You own a weapon just like the one used to kill Billy Eggers, and the truck the killer was driving matches your son’s short-bed black Chevy truck, right down to the rebel flag sunshade on the back window.”

“That’s absurd! Guns are everywhere. How dare you assume it was mine?”

“Because you’re the only registered owner of a Beretta M9 in the entire city of Bowling Green, and that was the weapon used to kill Billy Eggers. So of course, we have to eliminate you from suspicion, and the only way to do that is to test-fire the gun to see if it matches the cartridges found at the scenes of both Eggers’s murder and the attempted murder of his sister near Jubilee, Kentucky.”

Carl staggered. “That’s impossible. I’m just a collector.”

“Then you won’t mind taking my officers to your gun collection and turning it over,” Gardner said.

Junior was in a panic. He’d already tossed that gun down into the city sewer system, and its absence was going to make his daddy look guilty. He knew this was all his fault, but he had his own ass to cover, too.

“I don’t own that truck anymore. I lost it in a poker game to Lonny Pryor last month. You go ask him! You’ll find it parked at his place!”

Carl turned and stared at his son as if he’d never seen him. He didn’t know what was happening, but from the look on his son’s face, he was all too aware of what and why.

Junior’s panic was obvious, but Detective Gardner already had a rebuttal.

“No, Junior, the truck in question is parked in the alley at the back gate into this property. And according to our records, the title is in your name. So, if you lost it in a poker game, then why is it hidden behind your residence?”

Junior groaned. His refusal to pay off an honest gambling debt had just nailed him to the getaway car at a murder scene. He’d called Gunny a dumbass, but it appeared Gunny had outsmarted both of them.

Meanwhile, Carl’s shock was morphing into panic, and Detective Gardner was still issuing orders.

“Mr. Henley, if you’ll escort these three officers to where you keep your guns, we need to confiscate the Beretta for testing, and Junior Henley, these two officers will go with you. The truck is locked. If you have an extra set of keys, we won’t have to break it open. We will be towing it to the lab.”

Carl glared at his son and then headed for the game room at the back of the house. He swaggered to his desk, got the keys from a drawer, and opened the gun case. But the place where the gun should be was empty, and the moment he realized it, he felt the blood drain from his face so fast he nearly passed out.

“The Beretta! It’s not here!” he said, and turned to the officers in a panic. “I don’t know where it is! I swear!”

Gardner was waiting in the foyer when Henley returned with the officers.

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