Page 45 of Never Flinch

“I can take a walk over to the softball field, if you want,” Barbara offers.

“No need. If Holly says you can keep quiet, that’s good enough for me.”

“What you hear here, who you see here, when you leave here, let it stay here,” Holly murmurs.

“What’s that?” Izzy asks.

“It’s what they say at the end of Alcoholics Anonymous meetings. I know about it from my friend John Ackerly.”

Izzy’s eyebrows go up almost all the way to her hairline. “Youknowthe guy who found Rafferty’s body?”

“In a way, I’m responsible for him finding it. Remember I said I knew someone in the Program? That was John. He told me if anyone knew who might want payback for Duffrey’s death, it would be a guy called Big Book Mike, or the Rev. He lost his church because of an opioid habit and John says he pretty much replaced church with AA and NA. Did you find a juror’s name in his hand?”

“Holly, you’re a spook. Always one step ahead of me.”

Barbara says, “She’s got mad skills, all right.”

“No name in the dead guy’s hand. A Tapperville cop and a detective from the County Sheriff’s office responded to your friend’s call. They vibed it as a robbery. Wallet gone, wristwatch gone, clothes knocked off their hangers in the closet, bedside drawers open. They filed a report with us, and I thought of Bill Wilson right away.”

Barbara: “That’s the bad guy?”

“It’s the alias he’s using,” Holly says. And to Izzy: “This Rafferty must have known something, or Bill Wilson thought he did. He was killed to shut him up.” An uncomfortable thought comes to her: If John Ackerly had gone out to Tapperville earlier, he might also have been killed.And I’d be responsible.

Holly leans toward Izzy. She’s not good at invading the space of others (or having hers invaded), but this is important. “Can you make it your case? I know Tapperville is county jurisdiction, but—”

“We get along pretty well with the state cops and the Sheriff’s Department. They’re actually covering for us the night of the Guns and Hoses game because so many of our guys are playing or want to watch. They won’t give us the case, but they’d share, no doubt.”

“Someone needs to go through his house. Bill Wilson killed him for a reason. Maybe the reason is still there.”

“Tom and I will take a run out there this afternoon.” She pauses. “No, make it this evening. I’ve got court this afternoon.”

“And I’ve got a bail jumper to locate. Plus a stolen truck. One of those Cyber thingies. A Musk-mobile.”

“Since we’re sharing secrets, can I tell you one?” Barbara asks.

“Of course,” Holly says.

“The mayor asked Sista—Betty, I mean—to sing the National Anthem at the Guns and Hoses game. And she said yes!”

“Finally some good news about that fucking game,” Izzy says. “Anyone want another hotdog?”

5

Christine’s twin brother, Christopher, is staying in another fleapit motel, this one in Iowa City. The murdering women are of course in a much better place, probably enjoying room service breakfasts and possibly mani-pedis in the spa. There won’t be room service in hell, only doom service.

This makes him laugh.

His room is hot, almost stifling. He turns the air conditioner up to high. It rattles madly but doesn’t cool the room very much. He pickedup a manila envelope at Mail Now on Kirkwood Avenue. It helps that the entire tour is on Kate McKay’s website; he and Chrissy can get mail anywhere. The only mail he expects is from Andrew Fallowes, the treasurer of Real Christ Holy in Baraboo Junction, Wisconsin. Do the Real Christ Holy congregants know where a portion of their considerable tithes are going? Chris doesn’t think so, but he thinks most—not all, but most—would approve if they did. Still, Andy Fallowes is right: compartmentalization is the only way this mission can work; if they are caught or killed, the church must not find itself caught in the blowback. Real Christ Holy is already on the FBI and ATF radar.

He opens the envelope. There’s no note, only sixty twenty-dollar bills in Saran Wrap. There will be more, probably in Madison or Toledo. He puts a few of the twenties in his wallet, the rest in his shaving bag. He’s traveling with two good-sized suitcases, one pink and one blue.

Chris goes into the bathroom and examines his face in the mirror.Looking haggard, Christopher. Yes. He is. Chrissy can wear makeup and is quite good-looking. Not a stunner, but she won’t crack any mirrors, either.

He thinks,They have been warned. We gave them a chance to back off.

But did he think they would? Chrissy might have—she’s very much her mother’s daughter—but not him. The McKay bitch is as much of a crusader as those knights who wanted to liberate Jerusalem in the eleventh century. He can admire that; he is also a crusader. So, in her slightly gentler way, is Chrissy. Zealots, some would say. And really, wasn’t Reno a chance to end it without bloodshed?

He’s not stupid, knows perfectly well that Andy Fallowes has sent them on what’s probably a suicide mission, but that’s okay. He means to follow through. Chrissy will, too. Perhaps once the job is done and the leader of the abortion murder cult is no more, they can make an end to this miserable divided life he and his sister have been leading.

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