Chapter 15

Waiting

"Leon Arndt," Art's voice bellowed inside the glass conference room.

Boyd Crowder leaned forward with his forearms on the conference table, across from Chief Deputy Art Mullen and Deputy Marshal Tim Gutterson. Being there clearly wasn't Boyd's idea.

"What about him?"

"Don't be a wise guy, Crowder." Art's steely eyes bored into the man he'd been after for years. "What do you know about him, and when's the last time you saw him?"

"I'll answer your second question, first," Boyd craftily responded. "I've never seen the man. As far as who is he? Most folks from around here know he's a neo-Nazi."

"And so are you," Art snapped back.

"You mean was," Boyd corrected the Chief. "I turned over a new leaf."

"After finding God," Tim interjected. "We well remember that bullshit."

"It wasn't bullshit. I had found God . . . at the time," Boyd glared at the younger marshal. He abruptly changed the subject. "Where's Raylan?"

"He's in D.C.," Art announced. "Visiting our nation's capital."

"How nice for him," Boyd said, raising an eyebrow. "I hear the cherry blossoms are in full bloom."

Tim snickered. "It's not nice if you're allergic to them or whatever else is blooming around there." Tim had heard from Raylan when he was wheezing.

"Look, while I always enjoy the company of the marshals, I have things that need attendin' to back at my bar. So, if you all will excuse me." Boyd began to stand.

"Not so fast," Tim lowered the boom.

"Sit down. We want you to do something for us," Art added.

"And why would I do that?" Boyd asked.

Art crossed his arms across his barrel chest. "Because we don't think Ava Crowder murdered Delroy all by herself."

"Who said anything about Ava murderin' anybody?" Boyd shrugged. Ava pleaded innocent and had not yet gone to trial. "What happened to bein' innocent until proven guilty?"

"C'mon," Tim said. "She was caught disposing of a corpse. A badly decomposed corpse."

"Who has in fact been identified as one Delroy Baker," Art informed Boyd of the forensics.

"And who once ran the whorehouse you now find yourself in possession of," Tim added.

"A case could be made," Art said, tapping on the files stacked on the table. "Considerin' your extensive record of underhanded dealings and such, that either the two of you killed old Delroy together to take over his business, or you killed him and all Ava was doin' was cleanin' up after you."

"If I had killed him," Boyd said, never breaking his gaze on the two marshals. "There wouldn't have been a body to dispose of."

Art stood tall, chest puffed and towering over a seated Boyd. With his hands squared on his hips and his face reddened with frustration, Art huffed, "There's conspiracy to murder written all over this one, Boyd. And let me remind you that you and your fiancée are not yet man and wife. Ava can testify against you to avoid prison time. Because the truth is? We're not after a little fish like Ava. We're after a big fish . . . like you."

Boyd, who was usually quick with the comebacks fell silent for a moment to gather his thoughts. He finally spoke, "So, I take it you'd be less interested in me if I'd cooperate and help you get an even bigger fish like Arndt?"

Art, still standing with hands on hips, glared down at the slippery little man before him. "Now, you're gettin' the picture."

-o-o-o-O-o-o-o-

"Thank you." Davis Reeves looked up at his daughters. "I know this can't be easy for you. I was afraid. . ." He wiped a tear away and the breath shuddered out of him. "I wish I could go home."

"I'm sorry about that, Daddy," Gayle said. "You know we sold the house, remember?"

He shook his head. "I don't." His eyes met hers. "But I know you're telling me the truth. Do I have to go back to that other place?" He glanced around the hospital room. "It's better than here, but not by much."

Winona took a step closer to the bed. "We're going to take you back to Gayle's. She's getting everything all ready for you in the little sunroom at the back. You can see the backyard from the big windows. It's a pretty view."

"You'll be able to watch the boys play."

Their father's eyes settled on Gayle. "You sure you want this happening in your house?"

"Yes, I do," she assured him. "You'll be with us. Right where you belong. And Winona is going to stay, too."

"What about that husband of yours? Gary?"

"Raylan, Daddy." Winona smiled. "He's working in Washington D.C. right now, but he'll be here soon."

An older woman, tall, with silvery blonde hair, came in carrying a clipboard. She was dressed in a plaid blouse and khaki slacks. She held out a hand to Winona. "Hi, I'm Tracy Weston, from hospice. I'm here to see Davis Reeves."

"This is my father, Davis," Winona said. "And my sister, Gayle."

"I think we talked on the phone," Tracy said to Gayle with a smile. "It's nice to meet you in person." She motioned to the chairs, pulling one closer to the bed. "Why don't we sit down? I want to make sure we all understand the goals of hospice care."

Gayle pulled the other chairs over and we huddled together near Dad's bed.

"To enter hospice care, a patient has a life-expectancy of six months or less," Tracy said. "Our goal is to make that time as pain-free as possible, and keep the patient as alert and active as possible. Everyone follow?"

We nodded.

"By active and alert, you mean I can go and do what I want?"

"Absolutely," Tracy said. "Whatever you're able to do, you can do."

"Davis has some ball games next week," Gayle said. "Would you like to go?"

"I'm Davis," he said, then shook his head. "I know. Davis is my grandson. He plays baseball?"

"Yes," Gayle said. "Coach pitch. They won their game last night. They have another one on Saturday. Maybe you'll be out of here by then."

"Since Mr. Reeves isn't going to have any further treatment for his heart condition, we can discuss discharge with the doctor," Tracy said. "When you go home, hospice would visit daily, or as needed. We would make sure that you aren't in any pain, and that you're as comfortable as possible." She turned to Gayle. "We can also help to get any equipment you might need. A hospital bed, wheelchair, that kind of thing."

"I don't need a wheelchair," Davis Reeves insisted. "I can walk. I just need to go slow."

Gayle and Winona shared a glance, this was the stubborn father they remembered.

"Okay, Daddy," Winona said. "Whatever you say."

-o-o-o-O-o-o-o-

"So, what did you do all day?" Anna opened the fridge and peered inside, disappointed at the lack of snack-worthy food. Armed with her directions and a map on his phone, Raylan had walked down the block to pick up the Thai take-out they'd ordered for dinner, but she was hungry now. She sighed and grabbed a beer, popping off the cap and hopping up onto the counter to sit.

'I got about half of the way through the Bourbon Trail," Adam said. "I have Maker's Mark, Wild Turkey and Woodford to go."

"I'm a little surprised you're not hanging out more with Winona," she said, taking another sip. She made her way to the island and took a seat on the barstool. "You two seemed to hit it off so well. Did you have a little too much togetherness on the drive out there?"

"No," he quickly answered. "Nothing like that. It's a somber vibe here. I knew what they were going to be dealing with, that's why I offered to stay at a motel. Besides, her sister, Gayle changes up the mix."

"Oh?" Anna wanted more detail but wouldn't push it.

"I don't know," Adam continued. "There's nothing to do at the motel, but I feel like a third wheel here. That and, it's like everyone in the house is on death-watch. You know, the father came home today with hospice, here, at their house. It feels like it's a private thing, and I shouldn't be here." After a beat of silence, he broke it. "I offered to cook for everyone. It's what I do. But Gayle won't have it. She says I'm a guest, and she doesn't want to put me out. Put me out? Doesn't that beat all?"

"She doesn't know you, babe," Anna offered.

"After I finish the bourbon tour, I think I'll have seen just about all Kentucky has to offer. I'm stayin' in the cheapest decent motel I could find, but still."

This call was taking a while longer than anticipated. Anna switched to her headset and got herself another beer.

"Everyone is so 'polite' with me, yet with a bit of insincerity. They don't need me to watch Willa," he went on and on. "I know they're just trying to get through this. It's not about me. When do you think you'll be here?" Adam would have been planning to drive back to D.C., had Raylan not told Winona about his impending trip to Kentucky.

"Don't know," Anna answered. "Raylan's pushing hard to go, as hard as he can. And he's pushing for me to come with him." She took a long pull on the beer. "I know it's tough, but will you be okay there by yourself for another day or so? You could move into a nicer hotel with a workout room. I'll be on a per diem, and we would definitely stay in a hotel. And if it turns out I'm not coming, you can head home."

"Another day or so, huh?" he sighed. "Well, it's not like there's much of a choice. And it was my idea to drive Winona out here in the first place. I'm not sorry I did."

"I know Raylan really appreciates it," she shared. "He's like a caged animal since she left. He wants to go home. Actually, I think he's feeling a lot like you these days."

"How's the bitch?" Adam asked, changing the subject. "Is she keeping her paws off of Raylan?"

Anna chucked. "Yeah. She's changed her tune . . . a little. Not in the bad hours we're keeping, but she's a little more respectful towards the both of us, thanks to Raylan. I'll take it. And you can tell Winona to rest easy. I'm keeping an eye on her."

"Are you getting to know Raylan better?"

"Yeah," she sighed. "He can be a chatter box, at times. Again, he's restless. I hate to burst Winona's bubble, but he does not belong in Washington. Or at Glynco, in my opinion. He seems like the type who needs to be out there. On the move. In the field."

"Like you?" Adam chuckled. "I mean, that does sound a lot like you."

"Yeah," she laughed. "Like me. I admit it. I'm starting to see it. I'm feeling a kinship with the guy. I 'get' him."

"When will you hear back from the lab?" he asked out of curiosity.

She adjusted her earpiece. "You read the instructions. I think it will be after the weekend. They must have received it . . . today?"

"I guess so. Sorry. As much as I want to know, no one wants to know more than you and Raylan," he apologized.

"It's okay," she said. "You're in this with me."

"I am?" he teased. "I like the sound of that."

"Well, I'm kind of stuck on you," she offered. "And I miss you. And I want to ravage your body when I see you again," she teased.

"Oh, I love it when you talk like that," he said in a low voice. The walls were too thin. "Please hurry. Get a decision. I miss you, too."

"I will," she said, hearing Raylan coming through the front door. "I love you." It was clear from her tone she was ending the call.

"I love you, too," Adam said.

And they disconnected.

"Was that Adam?" Raylan asked, carrying bags of food with a wonderful aroma. He placed them on the island.

"Yeah," Anna said. She stood up and walked around the island, gathering up plates and napkins. "I'm grabbing another beer. Want one?"

"Oh, yes," Raylan grinned, showed his appreciation.

"Adam says it's pretty heavy over at Winona's sister's house. Gayle? Is that her name?" she said, handing him a bottle.

"Yeah. Gayle's a proper older sister. She's alright," he replied, screwing off the bottle cap. "She didn't like me too much . . . at first. I've had to grow on her. Took a while."

"That's pretty much how Adam described her. But he cuts her a lot of slack. I mean, she losing her father."

"Pretty grim?" he asked, taking a long pull.

"You know it is," she answered. She passed the box of pad Thai over to Raylan, as she spooned out some of the basil chicken onto hers. Then, she moved to the salad rolls. "Would you like one?"

"Sure," Raylan said.

Anna placed two of the rolls onto his plate, along with a small container of peanut sauce and sweet chili sauce.

"Chopsticks?" she asked.

"I'd rather have a fork if ya' don't mind."

Not surprised, as Thai food was not Raylan's usual fare, she reached into a nearby drawer and pulled out a place setting and passed it to him. Before she sat down, she noticed Raylan's beer was almost gone.

"Hey, I'm ahead of you. Would you like another?" she asked, standing by the open fridge.

"Bless ya'," he nodded.

She joined him at the island, passed him the bottle, and pulled up the stool right beside him.

"I was gonna call Winona, but it's late," he glanced at the clock. "I don't wanna wake Willa. She texted me several times today."

"Thank God, the bitch hasn't confiscated our cell phones," Anna said, screwing of the top of her second bottle. "Can you believe she actually did that the first week of the task force? She wouldn't allow any personal interruptions. She can be quite the ball buster."

"Karen overplays it, sometimes," he nodded, pouring peanut sauce over his rolls before taking a bite. "Hmmmmm. Not bad," he said, after he swallowed. There was grilled chicken in the rolls.

"Yeah, this place makes their own sauces. These things can be addictive."

"Back to Karen," he said. "She's playin' in a man's world. I mean, things have changed over the years with women being promoted into the top jobs, but let's face it. It's still a Boy's Club. She just wants to be taken seriously."

"Well, if you ask me, she doesn't need to try so hard." She glanced over at him and raised an eyebrow, as she pulled apart her chopsticks. "We're all professionals. She'd get more mileage if she . . ."

"Became more human?" Raylan asked. "I agree. She struggles with it."

"You really are friends with her," she observed.

"I know her," he corrected her observation. "And she knows me. I will tell ya' this. If I was in a gunfight, I know she'd have my back. And she'd have yours, too."

"Wow," Anna said, dipping her roll into the sauce. "You couldn't give her a higher recommendation than that."

"Not when it comes right down to it. In law enforcement, that's really all that matters." Raylan was starving, too, and dug into the pad Thai. "I talked to Art while I was walkin' to pick up the food. Boyd's agreed to wear a wire and set up a meetin' with Arndt. But Boyd's insistin' that I be there."

"Since when does a criminal dictate the terms of an investigation?"

"Since Boyd don't trust the Marshals Service. Not that he trusts me that much, but Boyd thinks he can look me in the eye and tell if I'm tellin' the truth. I guess there is somethin' to that. I get a feel when someone is tellin' me the truth or not. Don't you?"

"Oh sure," she answered, taking a sip of her beer. "I guess in the line of work we're in, you develop some skills."

"And in Boyd's line of work, I guess he figures the same. Boyd likes to say that what he does, and what I do? We're just two faces of the same coin."

"Huh?" she asked, not getting it.

"I think what he really means is that he and I come from the same place, and we're really not that different," Raylan joined her in sipping the beers.

"Well, of course you're different," she said. "You're on the right side of the law."

Raylan chuckled. "You and I know that. It's just some of Boyd's bullshit. Anyway, I say . . . I update Karen first thing in the mornin'. She can confirm it all with Art. And since this is a federal crime we're talkin' about . . . I think it would be in Karen's best interest if she let me bring ya' in on this part of the investigation."

"Here's to convincing her we both need to go," she raised her beer bottle for a toast, to which Raylan complied.

"How's Adam hangin' in?" Raylan sensed some strife after that phone call.

"He's on the Bourbon Trail," she offered.

Raylan sighed. "I wish I was on that Trail, right now."

-o-o-o-O-o-o-o-

Winona found Adam in Wade's study, glancing at the books lining the shelves.

"Willa's finally down," she said and looked up at him. "How are you doing? I haven't seen you all day."

He leaned on the edge of the desk. "I just talked to Anna. They'll know in a day or so what is going on. Whether they're coming out or not. Whether she is coming at all. I could go back to the motel, but I wanted to be here in case you needed anything. But it's kind of uncomfortable. I feel like I'm in the way instead of helping."

Winona looked down. "I know how you feel." Keeping her voice down, she continued. "I love my sister, but this is her house. And she's taking on a lot bringing Daddy back here. He can be a handful. But yeah. You don't have to explain it to me. Honestly? I can't wait for Raylan to get here. Willa and I'll be moving into his hotel room too." She sighed. "This situation with Daddy is hard. But it would be easier on me if I had my own space, too."

"I miss my kitchen," Adam shared.

It dawned on Winona that Adam had not been given 'kitchen privileges.' She had been too busy with her father to notice. "Let me talk to my sister before I go to bed. And why don't you plan on fixing everyone dinner tomorrow night. Just keep in mind that there are two little boys who like their pizza and mac and cheese." She smiled, knowing he just wanted to be useful.

"Oh, you don't have to do that," he said. "You and your sister have enough on your minds."

"Hey, we have to eat," she sat beside him on the edge of the desk. "And honestly? Gayle's cooking is for the birds."

"Yeah?" he smiled.

"Yeah," she nodded. "I want you to know I appreciate you being here. This waiting. Waiting for daddy. Waiting for Raylan."

"Waiting for that DNA test," Adam interjected.

"That, too. It's not easy," she said. "I'm just glad we don't have to do it alone."

"Good." Adam shifted back onto his feet. "If you don't need me tonight, I think I will head back to the motel. There's a movie theater right next door that's showing the film that won Sundance. I'd like to see it, and Anna won't go near a movie without car chases and gunfights."

Winona chuckled. "Another thing our significant others have in common." She gave him a hug. "I'll see you in the morning?"

"Sounds good," he said, feeling a little better.

(To be continued . . .)