“Where is he, Reg?” The echo of gunfire was still ringing in Nick’s head, but the dream had been wiped away by the abrupt, cold brush of Reggie’s hand through his shoulder.
“Floor of the vault of the Woodbridge Federal Credit Union.” There was a tinge of sadness to his voice this time. “Got him laid out on a pile of pennies, boss.”
Damn. Drake was really going to rub it in this time around. “Any law enforcement there yet?” Nick turned and glanced at the bedside clock. It read 8:26 AM.
“Got called about five minutes ago, I’d guess.”
So much for an advance investigation of the scene. “Okay, see what you can find, but get out of there before Agent Carpenter shows up. I don’t want any more suspicions tossed our way now.”
Reggie rolled his eyes and shook his head. “Little late for that, if you ask me, but I’m on it. What are they looking for out here? They aren’t being very subtle.”
“Playing out the penny angle, I believe. Agent Rutledge wanted to see if I’d take some bait.”
“They would be more useful with us, boss, but I guess you already know that.”
Nick held up his hand. “I know, Reg. I can’t risk any more lives on this.”
He shrugged. “They get paid to take these risks. Should let them earn their paycheck, boss. They have resources and manpower.”
“It’s not something they are prepared to handle,” he said.
Reggie snorted. “Hell, Sheriff, it’s not something we’re prepared to handle.”
“True enough.” Nick dropped his hand. “I’ve enough blood on my hands already.”
He nodded. “Understood. They may give you no choice, you know.”
“We’ll cross that bridge when we come to it. For now, see what you can come up with. I’m tired of us chasing our tails in the dark.”
“Will do, boss.” Reggie waved. “Check in later.”
“Hey,” Nick said quickly, stopping him halfway through the wall of his bedroom. “How are you holding up? I know this has got to be hard.”
He shrugged, a wry smile crossing his face. “It’s draining me, but we’re near the end. Either way, I’m good.” He turned and vanished beyond the wall.
Nick could feel his presence glide away and then vanish through that doorway to the world of the dead.
“Either way,” Nick muttered, rubbing his hands over his face. “Either way, Reggie.”
Sleep had been spotty the night before, worried as he was about Shelby, who had continued her search until after three AM. He could tell her to abandon the search, but it was pointless now. The victim had died hours ago, and Drake would be found only if he wanted to be. The bastard had an incredible knack for staying just out of reach. With a twinge of guilt, Nick found himself wondering more about what Drake might have left behind than whom he had killed. It would indicate who the next victim might be, more specific perhaps than a simple penny had been.
Nick took the time to make a decent breakfast of ham, eggs, grits, and toast and sipped on a full cup of espresso. Next to the plate, Joshua’s penny stared mockingly up at him. It had been the last one collected, picked up on the day the new pennies had arrived at the bank. Three days before Cornelius had come sauntering into town on his brightly painted wagon. The image of Josh, grinning ear to ear as he held it up to the sun, glinting in the light, marveling at its shiny newness, was remarkably clear and painful. Funny how all the years didn’t dull memories such as those.
Finally, Nick picked up the penny, put his dishes in the dishwasher, and marched upstairs, opening the narrow door that led into the loft space over the garage. There resided the past Nick could never let go of, the memorabilia of days long gone, painstakingly arranged to provide the sharpest reminder of what had been taken from him all those decades ago. In a handmade binder, painted and decorated with stamps and postcards pasted on by Joshua with the help of his mother, Gwen, Nick turned to the last page, and in the last spot-which had remained empty these 144 years-Nick carefully slid the penny into its rightful place.
Straining his senses, Nick could almost hear their voices if he remained perfectly calm and still. His heart pounded now in his chest, and he sniffed away a tear that threatened to spill. In moments like these, Nick wanted nothing more than to just lie down and let that doorway draw him through to the end.
“Goddamn you, Cornelius. Damn you to hell.” He slammed the book shut and marched out of the room.