Lolo Long chugged her Coke and looked out the driver’s-side window at me standing there in the Law Enforcement Center’s parking lot, a place where I was making a habit of saying good-bye to beautiful women.
She pulled the pop can from her lips. “I figure I should enjoy it-it may be the last thing the federal government gives me.” She considered the can. “Along with whatever communicable diseases Cly might have.”
Kelly Joe and Nattie were still in the back, comfortably dozing in the Yukon’s air-conditioning. “Two hours round-trip?”
“I can do it faster.”
“Please don’t.” She laughed, and I placed my forearms on the sill and twirled the ring that was still on my little finger. “That’ll put you back here this evening; come have dinner with us.”
She shook her head. “I can’t. I’ve got too much to think about, and besides, I’ve got to go find a killer.”
I started to open my mouth, but she spoke quickly. “I know you didn’t want any part of this from the beginning, but you helped me, and then I thought you were feeding me to the Feds when they came up with the tape, but you didn’t. I really appreciate that and, whether you know it or not, I’ve learned a lot from you in the last week.” She tightened her grip around my forearm where I’d rolled up my sleeves.
“I wasn’t much help; as a matter of fact, I think I made the situation worse.”
She shook her head. “No, you didn’t.” She averted her eyes to the windshield and the glare of the late-afternoon sun, her words taking on a note of finality. “You’re probably right about me not being fit for this job, and I probably won’t be able to keep it, but it was nice to get a taste of what it can be like.” Her breath wavered in her throat. “I want to thank you for that.”
I thought about how this was not how it was supposed to end, with her providing cab service for the Feds and me walking away. In a perfect cinematic world we would’ve captured the bad guys in spectacular fashion with explosions, car chases, and a parting kiss. She would’ve been played by Ava Gardner, and I would’ve been played by Robert Taylor.
I looked at her. “I was wrong.”
She looked back at me, and I could feel her eyes on the side of my face.
“You’re going to make a great cop if you stick to it.” I turned back and tried not to let the sickle-shaped scar draw my attention like a tide. “Don’t let them run you off your patch; you can do a lot of good here.”
Her eyes stayed level, and there was no irony in her response. “Thanks.” She patted my arm. “I’ll see you around, Sheriff.” She pulled the gear lever down. “Who knows, I might need a job.”
I watched as the GMC whipped from the parking lot and headed out for the territories west. I was thinking about a lot of things and felt that strange feeling-like a thought that needed scratching, the one I couldn’t reach-but the final thought before I started to wrestle with the starter on my nemesis was that I was hungry. The next thought was that I didn’t have anybody to have delayed lunch with when it dawned on me that I did.
He was still waiting by the hospital bed when I came to get him, but his charge was fast asleep in the crib. His tail thumped the floor, and his mouth lolled open with an inviting smile.
Lolo’s mother stood by me with a clipboard under her arm as we watched Adrian move once, place a tiny hand by his head, and relax again.
I spoke softly, like I was in church. “He’s a quiet kid; the only time I ever heard him cry was when somebody threw him off a cliff.”
She looked at me for a moment, possibly unused to cop humor, and then nodded. “I think he’s cried three times since he’s been here. At feeding time or changing his diapers, you come in and he’s just looking around like he’s taking in the place. Audrey used to bring him to work with her, and nobody complained because he was such a good little guy.” She walked over to the crib and arranged the blanket, her hand lingering on the child. “I was out putting some things in my car and saw Lolo pulling out hell bent for leather, not that she drives any other way.”
“She’s headed for Hardin but said she’d be back later this evening. I think the federal agencies are going to pull the plug on our homicide investigation.”
Hazel looked sad and answered in a low voice, our conversation taking on a conspiratorial quality. “That’s not going to make Lo happy; she’s really enjoyed working with you, and I don’t think she’s enjoyed much of anything else since she’s gotten back.”
“What’s the story on her husband-Kyle is it? And her son?”
“Danny. Oh, I go see them up in Billings every other weekend.”
I studied her. “And Lolo doesn’t?”
“No. I’m not sure what to make of it, but I’m hoping that over time she’ll work whatever it is out.” The baby clutched Hazel’s finger. “I’ve gotten to the age where I try and let people solve their own problems.”
“What age is that, anyway?” My eyes returned to the orphan, and I was overwhelmed by the odds against the little guy. “Do you have any idea where Adrian’s going to go?”
She sighed. “Not really. There’s Audrey’s sister, but… Herbert His Good Horse is the godfather, and he’s been so sweet in coming in and checking on him, but I don’t see him as the adoptive father type. I don’t know. Maybe I’ll see if I can get him.”
My eyes came up from the baby to her face.
She caught my gaze. “I’m pretty good at raising children, even with Lo’s present problems, just in case you haven’t noticed.”
“I have.”
“Anyway, you better get out of here. Don’t you have a wedding to plan?”
“Oh, the wedding juggernaut appears to be staggering forth on its own weight and took off toward Billings for supplies and the groom. My daughter arrived and took charge. I was released on my own recognizance.” I laughed gently. “I’ve been finding myself in that position a lot lately.”
She gently pulled her finger away from Adrian and joined me at the foot of the crib. “It must be hard with your wife gone.”
“Yep, it is. All I can think about is how much Cady looks like Martha and all the things that Martha would’ve wanted to tell her. Hell, I can’t remember to tell her all the things I want to tell her. Every time I look at her and realize what’s happening, I just choke up.”
Hazel gripped my arm and put on a voice tinged with brio. “Get a grip on yourself, man. It’s only a wedding.” She pulled a slip of paper from the clipboard under her arm. “I gave Lo a list of the individuals who were prescribed all or most of the medications that were listed on the medical bracelet you found, but I found a few more.”
I looked at the piece of paper, and there were more than forty names on the list. “Brother.” I scanned down the lines, my eye catching on Lonnie Little Bird. “Lonnie?”
“He went through a bad period when he lost his legs.”
I continued reading-Running Wolf, Lone Bear, American Horse, Bear Comes Out, Big Hawk, Bobtail Horse, Buffalo Horn, Red Fox, Crazy Mule, Eagle Feathers, Elk Shoulder, Fire Crow, Little Coyote, Magpie, Old Mouse… but nothing from the menagerie struck me. I folded the piece of paper and placed it in my breast pocket. “Well, it was worth a try.”
She pulled me toward the door. Smiling, I gestured toward the brute. “You mind if I take my dog to a late lunch?”
She went back to watching the baby. “Not at all, just have him back here by tonight; I sleep easier knowing he’s in here with the little guy.”
I patted my leg, and the monster rose from the floor rear-end first, stretching and yawning with a terrifying show of teeth. “C’mon, I’ll buy you a cheeseburger.”
He wagged, which I took as a yes.
When we got outside to Rezdawg, Dog sat on the concrete parking lot and looked at me. “I know, but it’s all we’ve got.” I opened the door, but he continued to look at me. “C’mon.” With a look of resignation, he made the leap to the shower curtain-covered seat, the very picture of fallen dignity. I closed the door and went around and climbed in the driver’s side. “Don’t worry; I’ll get our truck back. I promise.”
I hit the starter and, predictably, nothing happened.
The GEN and OIL lights glowed feebly back at me, and I looked at Dog in apology. “As much as you hate this truck, I hate it more.”
I climbed out, unhooked the rubber straps behind the grille, pinched my finger into a blood blister with the hood latch, and finally got the thing open long enough for it to close onto the back of my head. I pushed it up again, with more effort and a little anger this time, reset my hat, and stood outside its jaws long enough to make sure the hood would stay up.
Relatively sure I wasn’t going to get snapped again, I wiggled the corroded positive clamp on what had to be the original AUTOLITE STA-FUL battery and thought I’d be happy if the damn thing just STA-CHARGED. The greenish-white buildup on the lug fell away just enough for the worn bare part of the cable to turn and rub against the inner fender and shoot sparks around the engine bay, my hand held in an electrified death grip.
I yanked away and stood there holding my fingers and restrained myself from kicking the grille guard, sure if I did that it would release the parking brake and the three-quarter-ton would roll over me. Then I remembered it didn’t have a parking brake and went ahead and kicked it.
When we pulled up to the Charging Horse Casino, which I had decided was as good for late lunch as anywhere, there was no shade in the parking lot, so, even if I wanted to leave Dog, which I didn’t, I couldn’t. He followed me up the concrete ramp to the door where an aged Cheyenne with an impressive ponytail and a black silk jacket with a security badge stopped us with an extended hand.
He looked at me for a moment but then let his hand fall. “Hello, Walt.”
“Mr. Black Horse.”
The older man, who had been my sponsor at the peyote meeting that seemed like years ago, dropped a hand down to Dog’s level so that the beast could sniff at it and then lay a lick on him that covered the width of Albert’s knuckles. “I’m afraid there are no dogs allowed in the casino.”
“How about service dogs?”
Albert looked down at the behemoth.
“He outgrew his vest.”
Albert smiled and scratched behind a red, brown, and black ear. “How about I let you take him into the Bingo Hall? There’s nobody in there, and I can get Loraine to serve you at the back commissary window.”
“Sounds like a deal.”
He ushered us through the discordant music of the one-armed bandits and deposited us at the counter in the cavernous room in the rear. The place was as big as a gymnasium, complete with a scoreboard the size of a ballpark’s, and what must’ve been a hundred event tables with folding chairs.
After a moment the gate rolled up, and Loraine Two Two smiled at me and even at Dog. “I see you took the precaution of eating almost alone this time?”
I laughed and looked down at the furry face. “Oh, he’ll get his share. As a matter of fact, I was thinking that I’d order him up his own. They’ve been feeding him dry food over at the health center, and I figured he was about due a hamburger.”
She looked concerned. “Was he hurt?”
“Nope, he’s been standing guard over Adrian Last Bull.”
Her eyes melted. “I’ll see that he gets a double helping.”
Albert Black Horse came around the corner and took a stool on the other side of Dog, then reached out and rubbed the beast’s head. “The afternoon guy is here, so I thought I’d come back, rest my dogs, and eat my late lunch with you, if you don’t mind?”
“Speaking for the both of us, we are delighted to have your company.” Turning back to Mrs. Two Two, I ordered up a double cheeseburger for me, a couple of patties for Dog, and anything Albert wanted, along with some iced teas.
“I’ll take one of those Mexican salads. Watching my heart.”
Loraine smiled and disappeared into the kitchen, and I stared at him. “You were the previous tribal chief of police?”
“I was, in the sixties and seventies, then was appointed interim for a short period up until a few months ago.”
I nodded. “You were pretty good buddies with my old boss Lucian?”
“I was. How is he doing?”
“Busy as a one-legged man at an ass-kicking convention.”
He extended his hand in a more formal manner this time, and I shook it. “I’ve known about you for years, Sheriff. You made a big impression on my people with your efforts in the Little Bird case.”
“Thank you.” I thought about it. “Correct me if I’m wrong, but wasn’t Eddie Bailor the chief up here for the last eighteen years?”
“He was, and then I was the interim chief for a few months until they could find a suitable replacement.” He reached down and ruffled Dog’s hair. “I guess the previous Elder Chief decided I was too old to have the job on a permanent basis again.”
“That would be the Elder Chief who gave Lolo Long the job?”
“Yes.”
“The one who was indicted along with Bailor?”
He nodded with a sad smile. “Yes.”
“How come you didn’t stick on as a patrolman?”
“They had a full compliment of officers, and there were no openings.”
Loraine brought us out a brace of iced teas; I thanked her and thumbed the straw into my mouth. “Well, that’s certainly not the case now.”
He continued to smile, but this time it took on a mischievous, foxlike look. “I heard she fired the entire department.”
“She did.”
He shrugged and smiled, shaking his head. “Probably for the best; they were a bunch of lazy bastards.”
“You should go back.”
He sipped his own tea. “To what?”
I pointed to my shirt, especially the name tag. “The job.”
He studied me. “You join up?”
“Nope, I’m just on loan on a temporary basis.” I watched him and could see the thought traveling around there bumping against the ceilings of his mind like a benevolent honeybee.
“No, I’m too old to be wrestling drunks and getting hit in the back of the head with wine bottles on domestic disturbances. Anyway, I got shot a while back; they patched me up, but… I think I lost my enthusiasm.”
“She needs help.”
A stillness overtook him, the stillness that only Natives can do-like a breeze of cedar smoke, it blows through their bodies and becomes a nontangible thing, almost as if they become completely invisible.
“She’s going to be a good cop, but after this week I’m going to be gone and she could use a little guidance.”
He broke the spell by speaking. “I don’t know if I would make a very good patrolman-I was chief for so long.” He glanced up at Loraine and then to me. “And I know it’s wrong, but I’ve never worked for a woman.”
Loraine stifled a laugh.
I squelched a little chuckle of my own. “Are you married, Albert?”
“Thirty-two years.”
“Then don’t worry about it.”
He smiled some more. “Nobody wants an old broken-down Indian cop.”
“Well, I don’t know if you’ve noticed, but people aren’t exactly knocking down the doors over at the Law Enforcement Center.” I sipped my tea. “I’ll give you a recommendation, if you need it.”
He nodded some more. “She has a reputation.”
“Yes, she does, and I’m sure we do, too.”
He changed the direction, if not the subject. “How goes the investigation into the two deaths?”
I was reticent, but if he was willing to bring up the subject in front of Loraine, it was fine by me. “You already know about Clarence?”
“Moccasin telegraph.”
“The Feds laid a trump card onto us with a recording of a conversation where Clarence Last Bull tries to hire Artie Small Song to kill his wife and child, but there’s been some doubt cast on its validity.”
“By who?”
“Nate Small Song and Herbert His Good Horse.”
“They would know.”
There was a cry from the kitchen, and Loraine left for a moment and then reentered, balancing three plates with rolls of silverware in her hands. “Who gets the half-cooked mound of ground beef?”
I glanced down. “Oh, you lucky Dog.” I took the plate and watched as the brute froze. “You take off my hand, and I’m never bringing you gambling again.” Sensing my tone of voice, he promptly sat. I lowered the plate as if I were submerging my hand into crocodile-infested waters; he waited and then dove in.
Albert and I began eating as Loraine disappeared into the kitchen only to come back with a pitcher of iced tea. I would’ve just as soon had the old police chief to myself to discuss the recent happenings, but I wasn’t going to send her away. I’d had my say in trying to enlist the man and changed the subject. “What did you do in the interim, Albert, between service?”
He chewed his salad. “Worked construction, was a jack-leg electrician, plumber, you name it. I built most of the offices over at the tribal headquarters.”
“It’s an impressive building.”
“State of the art, or was about ten years ago.” He sipped his tea. “Back in the economic heyday, after 9/11, we got all this extra Patriot Act money and put in an entire audio/visual security system.”
I thought about it. “Is it still in operation?”
He shook his head at his plate. “No. Most of the equipment wasn’t kept up, and the added expense of having somebody in the security crow’s nest just wasn’t feasible. Now they just have a desk in the middle of the hallway.”
“Barrett Long?”
Albert nodded. “He’s a good kid, but boy he gives that sister of his hell.”
I smiled. “He’s a pistol.”
Loraine’s voice joined in with the hush of gossip. “He’s also a rounder.” She looked embarrassed. “He’s a very handsome young man.”
“Gets around, huh?”
She shrugged. “He was after my daughter for a while, but I put a stop to that.”
I thought about Clarence but figured the best thing to do was let dead men lie.
“He was even flirting with Audrey Plain Feather when she and Clarence were having their problems.”
Albert glanced up at her but remained silent.
She noticed his look and was immediately apologetic. “I don’t mean anything. I mean, he’s there in the building and flirts with everything in a skirt.” She smiled in a nervous way. “He looks good in a black T-shirt.” She stood there for a moment more, then refilled our glasses. “I’d better go check on the kitchen.”
Albert watched her go, silently shook his head, and brought his eyes over to mine. “And you want me to get involved with all that again?”
I thought about how much of my six hours to break this case were gone and what I could do between now and dinner. “Maybe sooner than you suspect.” I sipped my tea and rested the glass back in the perfect circle of condensation on the counter and then picked up my burger. “You wouldn’t happen to have a set of old keys to Tribal Headquarters, would you, Albert?”
It wasn’t easy to break into the Northern Cheyenne Tribal Headquarters since the damn thing was completely surrounded by roads, parking lots, and dusk-to-dawn lights. We’d parked Rezdawg at the rear of the building with an unhappy Dog sitting on the bench seat; it was going to be difficult enough to go about breaking and entering without being accompanied by a prairie grizzly.
Albert Black Horse sorted through a ring of keys that looked like a holiday wreath. “It’s one of those square-head, do-not-duplicate ones; I always keep one of them.”
I stood with my back to him in order to provide a blind and keep a lookout. “Wise decision.” After a few moments, I asked. “Any luck?”
“I think Long might’ve changed the locks.” There was a jostling. “Nope, got it.”
I listened as the heavy security door swung wide, just as an aged Plymouth rolled by with about a hundred people in it. They stared at me, and I waved, figuring a bold crook is a successful crook. After they’d chugged around the swerve in the road, I turned and followed Albert.
“Something?”
I shook my head and carefully closed the metal door. “A war party in a minivan, but I think we’re safe. What are they going to do, call the police?”
He nodded. “They could call the FBI.”
“They’re busy having dinner in Billings.”
“The BIA?”
“There’s that. Do you have any friends over there?”
He smiled with the one corner of his mouth. “A few, but not many-they’re all from other tribes.”
It was true, the BIA was staffed mostly with members of other tribes. I followed him through a hallway I didn’t know existed, and we approached a stairwell. “The crow’s nest is in the basement?”
“Yeah, more like a crow hole.” Albert called over his shoulder as we went down the steps to open a second door. We turned right into another hallway that ran lengthways underneath the building with storage spaces and adjacent utility rooms. Albert reached over and flipped on the lights, bare bulbs hanging from conduit holes along the metalwork in the ceiling. “I don’t think we have to worry about being seen down here.”
He walked along the hallway with his shoulders stooped, stopping in front of a nondescript door with a small, wire-mesh window. It looked like there had been an identifying plaque on it, but all that was left was the adhesive where the sign had been.
Albert fumbled with more keys as I leaned against the concrete wall. “Sounds like Loraine Two Two doesn’t care for Barrett Long.”
“Loraine Two Two doesn’t care for anybody who shows an interest in Inez, and that would be about half the tribe.”
“The male half?”
“Pretty much, but that kid.” He shook his head as he turned a key in the lock. “She’s a tough one.” He pushed the door open with a scraping sound from the hinges, noisy from lack of use. “Here we go.”
He brushed a hand along the wall, and I heard a switch being flipped but it was unaccompanied by illumination.
“Damn it.” I heard him shuffle closer to me. “Hold the door open, and I’ll steal a bulb from the hallway.”
I watched as he went out, licked his fingers, and reached up to untwist one of the bulbs, only to let it escape from his grip and pop on the concrete floor with a surprisingly loud sound. I glanced at the army of retreating lights. “Looks like there are plenty more to choose from.”
He nodded, advanced on the next one, and was more careful this time. Cradling the bulb in his hand as he entered the room, he undid the old bulb, handed it to me, and screwed in the borrowed one. The room flashed into view and so did the dust and cobwebs of the abandoned security center. There was a single chair, a counter, and small monitors in a shelf system, along with a rack of recording decks that looked as if they might’ve never been used.
“Looks like you were right; nobody’s been in this place in years.”
“Do you mind if I ask what it is you are looking for?”
I took a few steps toward the rolling chair, placed the burnt-out bulb on the counter, and studied the monitors that studied me back like gigantic, myopic eyes. “Nothing, really, I was just thinking.”
There was a portion of one of the audio recording decks where some of the dust had been wiped away, as if by accident. I reached behind it and nudged it forward-something brushed against the back of my hand. I caught a couple of cables. “Should these be unplugged?”
He shrugged. “They’re just the usual RCA cables, stereo-one red and one white, and this place hasn’t been used in years.” He paused for a moment and then fingered the end where another Y-shaped cable joined the other two and combined them into one small, thin junction plug. “Hmm.”
“What is it?”
He ignored me and leaned around the side in order to study the back and then turned with a puzzled look on his face. “It’s disconnected from the junction box, but that’s not the only funny part; that splicer on there is to connect the cables into a modern computer.”
I fingered the cable end. “You didn’t have anything like this back when you wired the place?”
“No, this is a USB connector.” He glanced up at me. “You don’t know a lot about computers, do you?”
“Next to nothing.” I looked at the monitors. “Albert, are the audio and visual surveillance systems connected or separate?”
“Separate; we had a lot of money back then but not that much.”
“Is every office in the building wired for sound?”
He shook his head. “No, just the communal areas.”
“Like reception?”
“Yes.”
I held up the cables. “Are these the ones connected to Human Services?”
“I don’t know.”
“Is there any way to find out?”
He shrugged. “Sure, there should be a location code on the junction box, and then we just need the code off of the mic at the reception desk.” He leaned behind the rack and ran a hand up the wall to a large, open junction box in the ceiling. His eyes raced down the small black and white labels. “R-7.”
I was about to speak when it sounded like one of the heavy metal doors to the stairs opened and, after a few seconds, closed. Albert and I froze, looking at each other and then toward the audio room door which we’d lodged open.
Albert looked more worried than me. “Should we close that door and turn off the light?”
“We’re the good guys.” I listened, but there weren’t any more sounds. “But maybe we can catch a bad guy.”
He nodded, went to the doorway, and peered around the corner, then turned back to me. “Should I go down the hall the other way and up those stairs, double back and come down behind them?”
I pulled the. 45 from the small of my back. “Do you have a weapon?”
He reached under his black satin jacket and held out one of those antiquated, garage-door-opener style Tasers. “I have this.”
I looked at the thing doubtfully. “Well, let’s hope it’s not a gunfight.”
He nodded solemnly, went down the hall the other way, quickly made a right, and disappeared. I could hear him climb the stairs. As he moved away, I flipped off the switch in the security room.
Albert was gone for about a minute when the rest of the lights also went out.
I edged to the doorway and kneeled, placing my shoulder against the jamb. It sounded as if someone was moving to the left, the grit of the hard floor twisting underneath leather soles.
My eyes closed, because there wasn’t anything to see there in the subterranean part of the rambling complex, and I wanted to give my ears all of my attention. Whoever was out there was out there in the dark along with me, and it was also possible that he didn’t care for the thought of bullets ricocheting in the confined, concrete area any better than I did.
I heard the sound of footfalls again, but this time it was farther away, and I got the feeling that whoever it was, he had gotten to a certain point and was now retreating.
I edged farther into the hallway and listened. It wasn’t as if he didn’t know somebody was down here, and it wasn’t as if he didn’t know that I knew he was there. The big question was whether he was armed.
I clicked off the safety on the big Colt, the noise echoing through the darkness. There was no metallic mating call, so either they were unarmed or already in a position to fire.
I leaned out a little farther and could hear someone carefully retreat. I was momentarily distracted by an unpleasant smell but then slowly raised myself from the crouching position, stood, and listened to make sure I was hearing what I thought I was. Satisfied, I took a step and softly moved forward in the darkness on the balls of my cowboy boots. I got halfway down the hall and crunched the broken glass of the forgotten lightbulb.
Every muscle in my body seized as I waited for the incoming bullet.
After about forty seconds, I heard a slight sound and raised the Colt in my hand, aiming it toward the faint glow coming through the tiny window in the door leading to the stairwell where we’d descended.
In one flash of movement, the door was yanked open and somebody threw himself through the opening and let the door slam behind him.
I launched myself and ran down the hall as fast as my limited visibility would allow. I glanced off the wall, caught my balance, and turned right to claw at the handle with my free hand, finally getting some fingers wrapped around it and throwing it open.
Someone’s boots pounded up the concrete steps, and I followed at full speed, making the landing in two strides. I raised the Colt and took aim at the individual who had his back to the door, his empty hands outstretched toward me. “Don’t shoot!”
I looked at Barrett Long. “What the hell are you doing?”
He looked as if his heart might explode from his chest as one hand was placed over it, the other coming up to clutch his forehead. “What the hell are you doing?”
I lowered the. 45 and held out an open hand in supplication. “Investigating.”
His voice was hoarse and whistled in his throat in exasperation as he tried to catch his breath. “In the dark?”
“Sorry.”
He looked around, possibly for his breath. “Jesus.”
I holstered the Colt, more than a little relieved that most likely the possible shooting part of the evening was over. “I’m here with Albert Black Horse. I had an idea and wanted him to show me the old security room.”
He breathed for a moment. “Why didn’t you just ask me?”
“I didn’t figure you were around.”
“I wasn’t actually, but I got a call from Karl Red Fox and some friends of mine who said they thought they might’ve seen somebody breaking into the building.”
“That’d be us.”
“Jesus.” He took a few more deep breaths. “Is my sister with you?”
“No, she had to make a run to Hardin.”
“So, who’s with you again?”
“Albert Black Horse.”
“The casino guy?”
“And retired police chief.”
“Jesus.”
“Let’s go find him before he Tasers somebody.”
The young man turned and pushed the bar on the heavy door, but it didn’t budge. He paused for a second and then pushed on it again, this time with a great deal of force, but the thing didn’t move. “Shit.”
“What?”
He slammed an open palm against it, the echo filling the stairwell. “The damn thing must’ve locked when I came through.”
I stepped next to him and tried pushing on the lever, but it still didn’t move. “That’s strange; this is a fire door, and they’re supposed to always stay open out.”
“The building’s closed.”
I shook my head. “Doesn’t matter.”
“It’s no big deal-there are three more exits in the basement; we just have to go down and come up another stairwell.”
I pushed off and started down the steps. “All right, but let’s hurry; I don’t want Albert to think that something’s happened-I don’t think his heart can take it.”
Barrett clomped down the steps behind me as I opened the basement door and walked through, my hand still clutching it when I stopped and jammed the doorway with my bulk.
The young man ran into the back of me as I stood there. “Jesus.” He stood still for a moment and then coughed. “Why’d you stop?”
I didn’t move. “Do you smell that?”
“Yeah… Smells like fart.” I ignored him, and he coughed again before leaning forward into the hallway. “What is that?”
I bent down, sniffing the air at a lower level. “Propane-a lot of it.”