Nolander

Chapter 4

“Betty? Hey, it’s Doyle. Honey, the charges aren’t gonna stick. Turns out the guy’s FBI. Paperwork’s going through now. He’ll probably be out within the hour.”

“He’s in the FBI?”

I couldn’t believe it.

“Yep. Apparently he’s up here investigating a meth ring.”

“A meth ring?”

“Yeah, you know, it’s this drug …”

“I know what it is, Doyle. I’m just having trouble believing it. I mean, if he’s an FBI agent, where’s his partner? And why’s he living with Callie McCallister?”

“Beats me. Maybe he was undercover or something. Guess we blew that.”

God, was he really in the FBI? Was that who the government was hiring now — thugs who broke into people’s houses and beat up women?

“You guys checked this out with the FBI directly, right?”

“Sure thing. The chief called Washington and talked to his supervisor. Who was pretty damn pissed, actually.”

Suddenly I felt very alone. Very alone and very scared.

“You believe me, don’t you, Doyle? About what he did to me, I mean?”

“Sure, Betty, I believe you. All of us do. I mean, you had that knot on your head.”

Did I imagine a little bit of doubt in his voice? Maybe he was thinking about other explanations for that so-called evidence. They hadn’t found any way to confirm my story. None of my neighbors had noticed the man’s car, and somehow he hadn’t left any prints. It was just my story and my injury.

“Okay, Doyle, thanks. And thanks for calling to let me know. I really appreciate it. I owe you one.”

“No problem. You hang in there, okay? Just give us a call if something seems funny. Hey, maybe have Janie come stay with you for a few days.”

“Good idea, Doyle, thanks. Bye.”

I gave myself exactly one minute to sit in my car and cry.

Callie’s boyfriend’s name had turned out to be John Williams. The cops had picked him up early that morning, after spending the night going over my place and hearing my story. Now it was a bit after 2:00 in the afternoon. What with the things I’d had to do before leaving town, I’d gotten less than six hours’ head start.

I wiped my face on the back of my sleeve and got out of the car. I was parked in an interstate rest stop, where I’d pulled off to get gas. Heading over to the parking area for the big rigs, I took a moment to tuck my cell phone behind the cab of one of them. It was an ultra-cheap pay-as-you-go model I’d bought that morning, just so I’d be able to get updates from Doyle. I couldn’t risk keeping it now — they could track a cell phone’s location, right? It had served its purpose, anyway.

I got back on the road. I was glad I’d gotten most of my money out of the bank before leaving Dorf. If Williams was in the FBI, he’d have a lot more resources at his disposal than I’d imagined. I probably shouldn’t use my debit or credit card.

Then again, if he was in the FBI, he wouldn’t be pursuing me, right? He’d stay in Dorf, investigating meth dealers.

Somehow I didn’t believe it. Maybe he wasn’t really in the FBI but had contacts in the FBI who would lie for him. That sounded more like it. It also sounded a lot more frightening.

I stayed on 90 westbound for another hour, then turned south and headed down into Iowa on county roads. Hopefully the semi with my phone would keep heading west.