Page 47 of Shelter for Martina

“Yeah. But I think it was a warning shot, so let’s see what happens next. If we have to move you to protective—”

“No!Absolutely not!”

“We’ll talk about that later. Right now, feel better and I’ll see you tomorrow.”

“You can bet on it. Thanks, Len.” The phone went silent and Bud placed it gently on the table. “Rifle round.”

“Shit, babe! That’s scary!”

“Yeah. They’re looking at the engine block to see if the slug wound up there.”

“Maybe it did. Will that really help?”

Bud shook his head. “Only if ballistics show the same weapon was used in the commission of another crime. And even then, unless it was found, it means nothing. But at least we’d have the evidence and if we ever seized the gun, we’d have the slug for comparison.”

She just nodded. “Okay. I guess we’re back to square one, huh?”

“Yeah.” He pushed back from the table. “Do you have plenty to keep you busy?”

“I guess. I’ve got laundry to do, and I’ll have to clean up this mess and find something for lunch later.”

“Good. I’ve got something I need to do back in my office.”

“Albert! You’re supposed to be resting!” Martina scolded.

“Nothing heavy duty, babe. Just an exercise we used to do in the academy. Thought I’d try it on this and see what I come up with. I promise, it’s not physically taxing.” She frowned at him. “How ‘bout if I promise to take a nap as soon as I’m done.”

“You promise?” He nodded. “Okay then. But you have to be napping by eleven. Otherwise, it’ll throw off lunch. Okay?”

“Okay. I promise.” That time when he stood, it seemed to take a little less effort, and he remembered somebody at the hospital telling him the more he was still, the longer it would take to feel better. He had to move around, but Martina was going to gripe at him every time she saw him flinch, he was sure. Oh, well. He’d figure it out.

In his office, he took out blank paper. At the top of each, he put the name of one of the people involved—Marty, Adams, Young, Renita, Martina, and himself. He started to expand it a bit, then decided against it. After he’d done that, he started listing things he knew about each one. That was pretty straightforward. Then he compared them against each other. Some of the pieces fit, and some didn’t.

Then he did something else he’d been taught. Using his laptop, he sat down and put his fingers on the keyboard. As he sat there, he closed his eyes and started to think about the interactions he’d had since he’d found out about Renita’s disappearance. Each time he saw someone’s face in his mind, he typed their name and hit ENTER. He started with that first day, in the woods, and noted Young and each deputy and trooper he’d seen. Then he kept going through Martina and Marty, and even the peripheral people, like the folks at the store whom he’d overheard talking about the case. Since he didn’t know their names, he typed just enough of a description that he’d know who he was thinking about. He added Tanner and ConorPaxton. The last few included Angela, Martina’s neighbor, as well as Amos and Alex, along with the woman who’d called the ambulance and the man in the red shirt. When he was satisfied he’d accounted for everyone, he selected the entire document, double spaced it, and printed it out.

Bud looked at the list of people. For an investigation involving one missing woman, the list was surprisingly long. One of the things he noticed was that there were no “casual acquaintances” on the list. They were either people he knew well and trusted, or people he didn’t really know at all, just those who crossed his path. So that begged another question.

Someone had told Adams about his relationship with Martina. He was sure of it. But who? There didn’t seem to be any crossover anywhere. The people he knew didn’t know the others, or vice versa. His department and the sheriff’s department didn’t really work together. It wasn’t like any of the troopers were close to any of the sheriff’s deputies. And besides, wouldn’t it look funny to one if the other was asking about him?

But someone had seen him at AngelaTabors’ house the day before. It was either the shooter, or someone who told the shooter. Who? And why? He wished he had another detective to run it all past, but the only other one at their post, KentTracy, had retired the year before, and budgetary restraints had prevented them from hiring another right away. Still, he wondered if Kent would look everything over for him and give him an opinion. Picking up his phone, he dialed the retired detective’s number.

“Hey! Bud! How’s it going?” There was an odd sound in the background, one that Bud couldn’t identify.

“I’m doing great, Kent! How’s it goin’?”

“Oh, great, great. I’m in St.Thomas!”

Bud was shocked. “The Virgin Islands?”

“Yep! It’s beautiful! You know I hate to travel, but it’s so great here. If you ever get a chance, you should come down here.”

“I’ll remember that. I’m glad you’re having fun!” And he was. Kent was a good guy, and he deserved to have a good retirement. He and Rhonda were nice people.

“We are. So what’s up?”

“Oh, nothing. I didn’t know if you were home or not, and I was kinda wondering if you’d look at something for me, but that’s okay. No biggie.”

“I’ll be glad to look at it when I get home. I’ll be back in three weeks,” Kent said, and Bud could hear calypso music playing in the background.

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