45. Go to The Mat
FORTY-FIVE
Go to The Mat
Harry
“E very woman he dated. Every friend he had, though there aren’t many, or ex-friend who got sick of him. Every blood relative. Every relative by marriage. Every bartender he bought a drink from. Every homeless person he roused. Every tweaker he hassled. Every informant we’ve got. We’ve hit them all up, and no one has seen him, they’re too scared of him to say they have, or they’re covering for him,” Rus reported on the latest in trying to find Karl Abernathy. “Wade even went out with Paddy Tremayne to hit up caves and abandoned cabins to see if he’s holed up somewhere. Nothing.”
They’d also searched unlet rentals and second homes that might be unoccupied.
And they got zilch.
It was Friday, nearly a whole week after Willie pulled his stupid stunt.
During that week, the only shakeup was another woman coming in to report that Abernathy had attempted to coerce fellatio, and mercifully, she was one of the ones who told him to go fuck himself.
Dern had found a way to make bail, and he was back home, waiting for the wheels of justice to grind him through.
They’d hauled in the ex-deputies that helped Dern pull his shit and were treated to attitude, bluster, denials, some fear, and a whole lot of “I was just following orders.”
A conversation with their DA, and Harry knew it was unlikely he was going to be able to do much with those fucks, but he was still going to try to get one or several of them to flip so they’d testify against Dern.
Nothing from Cheryl Ballard. Nothing from the Dietrichs.
That said, Cheryl’s sister was freaked, and the Dietrichs’ son was attempting to hide it, but he was too. The Roy Farrell news shook them (and his death was ruled a homicide, as suspected, there were sedatives in his gut, but he also had two missing teeth and a fractured jaw—Harry didn’t like the guy, but it was good to know at least he didn’t go down without a fight).
The sister had promised to share if she heard anything from Cheryl.
Rus felt the son was going to cave soon.
But for Harry, already it wasn’t soon enough.
“If he was smart he’d be in Canada or Mexico,” Rus went on. “I didn’t know him. So far, he doesn’t seem smart to me. But if he’s close and hiding, he’s really damned good at it.”
“He’s hunting,” Harry said.
Rus’s expression was grim when he nodded in agreement.
“Got no more, as much as it fucks me to say,” Rus remarked.
As frustration bubbled inside him, Lillian’s words came to him. Trust the process .
“Lill told me to trust the process,” Harry shared.
Rus cocked his head to the side in surprise.
“She’s more chill about this than I am, and she’s got more riding on it,” Harry explained.
“She seems pretty chill on the whole.”
Harry’s lips tipped up. “My first middle-of-the-night callout, she asked if I wanted her to make me coffee, and when I said no, she went right back to sleep. Got in later than she expected, she offered to make me breakfast.”
Now Rus’s lips were tipped up. “Damn, brother.”
“I know,” Harry agreed.
“Happy as fuck for you,” Rus said quietly.
It wasn’t too long ago, the two of them sat in this same office, sharing Irish whisky, Harry talking about Winnie, one of the first times he ever shared deeply about his loss, Rus listening.
And now there was this.
Rus’s eyes went to the credenza, and Harry knew what he was looking at.
The picture of Winnie was still there.
Harry hadn’t decided if it would remain. He’d moved on, but she’d always have a place in his heart and his life.
What he did decide was that he was going to task Polly with finding a nice frame and then he was going to frame the picture George took of them on Lillian’s front steps after they got the Halloween decorations done last Saturday. And that was going to go on the credenza too.
“Never thought…” Harry didn’t finish that.
Harry’s phone went as Rus said, “That’s just when she hits you, man. When you’ve given up.”
“Seems like,” Harry replied, reaching for his phone.
“Well, at least that’s what happened to you and me,” Rus said, straightening from his chair.
He looked at the line then answered, “Hey, Polly.”
“Rita Zowkower is here for you,” she snapped.
He knew her tone meant she tried to put Rita off, and Rita was having none of it.
So be it.
This was something else he was anticipating that took longer than he expected to happen.
“Can you bring her in?”
“I don’t want to, but I will,” Polly said and hung up on him.
“Ma Zow,” he told Rus as he put the receiver back in its cradle.
“Want me to stay?” Rus asked.
“Probably best, since this is now personal, and she’s a wildcard, a wily one. Got the time?”
Rus answered that by resuming his seat.
Polly stormed in and flung an arm behind her as Rita walked in after her.
“The madame is here,” Polly announced.
He should admonish her (not now, later), but he wasn’t going to. It was rare to nonexistent when Polly put a foot wrong. If she felt animosity toward Rita, there was a reason.
Anyway, unless Rita was there to report a crime, which she could take her pick of deputies to report it to, Harry knew Rita had wheedled her way to where she was right then, and maybe how she did it, courtesy wasn’t called for.
Polly stormed out and Harry and Rus stood.
“How can we help you, Rita?” Harry asked.
Her eyes went to Rus, then she said to Harry, “I’d prefer this be private.”
“I prefer it wasn’t,” Harry returned.
Her lips thinned.
“Have a seat,” Harry invited as he took his own.
Rus resumed his again as well.
She came forward and sat.
Harry rested his forearms on the desk. “Now, how can we help?”
She again shot a glance at Rus.
“Rita,” Harry called her attention back to him, “I know you know we’re busy. If there’s something we can do for you, it’d help if you got us started.”
“My boy wants to see his wife,” she bit off.
Harry refused to rise to the bait.
“I’m not sure he has a legal one of those,” Harry noted.
“You know who I’m talking about,” she spat.
Harry sat back and linked his hands on his stomach.
He then said, “I understand, as a mother, you want your children to have what they want. As a flight risk, your boy is being held without bail. He’s probably not thrilled with his accommodation. I’m afraid I can’t dredge up much empathy for him, considering he burned down my stables and grifted tens of thousands of dollars from unsuspecting women, and left three men, whose identities he also stole, in debt they have to untangle themselves from, illegally wed to women they’ve never met.”
Her face a mask of banked fury, Rita said nothing.
Harry continued, “Now, he’s in Seattle, which isn’t all that close. But it doesn’t matter where he is, what he had with Lillian was over years ago. She has no relationship with him. She’s not thrilled he woke up my father in the middle of the night while committing arson, but other than that, he does not factor in her life in any way. He can want whatever he wants. She is not going to visit him. She is not going to take a call from him. Except as a memory of a mistake she made she’s since rectified, he doesn’t exist for her.”
Rita remained silent.
“I take it you’re coming to me in the hopes I’ll intervene for him,” Harry guessed.
“You’re a fair man,” she snapped. “Usually,” she added sarcastically. “And I do believe you understand his feelings for her.”
Oh yeah, he understood Willie not being able to give up on the thought of being with Lillian, no matter how much time had passed.
Even so.
Harry leaned forward on his forearms again. “Right, and being fair, I’ll warn you, not as the sheriff, as Lillian’s man, this is one hundred percent not fucking okay .”
Rus shifted.
Harry didn’t break eye contact with Rita.
“Rita, I feel for you. You love your boy. He’s in a load of trouble. But do not ever come to me again asking for a favor for that man. You won’t get it. Not ever. And absolutely not if it has one fucking thing to do with Lillian. Am I understood?”
She sat rock solid and then she jerked her head in what Harry was going to take as an affirmative.
“You’ve changed,” she accused.
“No, I haven’t, Rita. You know me. You do because we’re the same. We’ll both go to the mat for someone we love. So you know where I’m coming from.”
Her eyes flickered on that.
She knew where he was coming from, and the wrath he sensed in her wasn’t aimed at Harry.
She was pissed at her son not only for being stupid, but also for getting caught doing it, and further because she knew if he’d stayed in the family fold and did what he was told, he likely wouldn’t be where he was.
The same thing happened to her other boy who decided to start a side gig apart from the family by cooking meth.
“He should have come forward,” Harry said quietly.
“I’ve never been able to control that boy,” she replied frustratedly.
And with that, Harry knew with certainty what he suspected. The ongoing cons weren’t her idea. That was all Willie. He’d gone maverick. And now he was fucked.
Harry sat back again. “No matter his age, a man should listen to the wisdom of his momma.”
She opened her mouth, but Polly was there again.
“Harry, Rus…” Polly’s eyes darted to Rita, but Harry was already strung tight by the voltage he saw in them.
“Rita, if you’ll excuse us,” Harry said urgently.
She got up and gave Harry even more to chew on about how he felt about her, knowing who she was, the gang she ran that she’d birthed herself, and still thinking there was some inherent good in her.
She did this by reading the room and not wasting any time in leaving.
Polly slammed the door on her and rushed to the desk.
She didn’t make them wait.
“Michelle Dietrich is here.”
Harry only took the time to share a glance with Rus.
Then they were both charging toward the door.