Page 26

The last thing Danny wants is another cop car showing up at his trailer, so at nine-thirty he’s standing at the entrance to Oak Grove, hands in his pockets, waiting for his ride.

He’s thinking about how badly he fucked up the anonymous call, succeeding in only making things look worse for himself.

And he’s thinking about Jalbert.

The woman doesn’t scare him.

Jalbert does.

Because Jalbert has made up his mind and all Danny has is a story about a dream that only a few people (such as Inside View readers like Becky) would believe.

Well, he does have one other thing going for him: he didn’t kill the girl.

As it turns out, he could have waited at his trailer, because the cop who picks him up is driving an unmarked.

He’s wearing his uniform, but sitting behind the wheel with his hat on the seat and the top button of his shirt undone, he could be any John Q. Citizen.

He powers down the passenger window.

“Are you Coughlin?”

“Yes.

Can I sit up front with you?”

“Well, I don’t know,” the cop says.

He’s young, surely no more than twenty-five.

This is Kansas, but he gives off a laid-back surfer-dude vibe.

“Are you going to launch an attack on me?”

Danny smiles.

“I don’t launch attacks on anyone until at least mid-afternoon.”

“Okay, you can sit up front just like a big boy, but do me a favor and keep your hands where I can see them.”

Danny gets in.

He clicks his seatbelt.

The cop’s dashboard computer is off but his police radio mutters constantly, too low to hear.

“So,” the cop says.

“Getting questioned by KBI in our little police station.

What a thrill, right?”

“Not for me,” Danny says.

“Did you kill that girl? The one they found in Gunnel? Just between us, you know.”

“No.”

“Well, what else would you say?” the cop asks, and laughs.

Danny surprises himself by laughing with him.

“How’d you know she was there if you didn’t kill her?”

Danny sighs.

It’s out there now; as Elvis used to say, it’s your baby, you have to rock it.

“I saw it in a dream.

Went out to see for myself, and she was there.”

He expects the cop to say that’s the most ridiculous story he’s ever heard, but he doesn’t.

“Weird shit happens,” he says.

“You know Red Bluff, about sixty miles west of here?”

“Heard of it, never been there.”

“An old lady went to the cops and said she’d had a vision of a little boy falling down an old well.

This was six or eight years ago.

And you know what? That kid was there.

Still alive.

Made national news.

Tell those KBIers to google it.

Red Bluff, kid down the well.

They’ll find it. But.”

“But what?”

“Stick to your story if you didn’t do that girl in.

Don’t go changing it, or they’ll hang you.”

“You sound like you’re no fan of the KBI.”

The cop shrugs.

“They’re all right for the most part.

Treat us like hicks, mostly, but ain’t that what we are, when you get right down to it? Six-man force, little speed trap outside of town, that’s us.

Our OOD told those two they can have the break room to question you.

We use it for interrogations when we have to, so it’s got a camera and a mike.”

He pulls up in front.

The station door opens and Jalbert comes out.

He stands on the top step in his black coat with the faded elbows, looking down.

“One other thing, Mr.

Coughlin.

We all know about Frank Jalbert.

He don’t quit.

Highway Patrol worships him, think he’s a fucking legend.

And my guess is he don’t believe in dreams.”

“I know that much already,” Danny says.