“No, Silas, whatdothey say?”
“Sometimes the best defense,” I tell Tay, “is a good offense.”
I see her face brighten now. It’s just one more moment when I can see the little girl in the amazing woman she’s become, see it fully, and understand all over again why I’ve always loved her the way I have, in ways I’m not even sure I fully understand, after knowing her my whole life.
“Don’t give me that shit,” she says.
ONE HUNDRED FOUR
HELENE AND HER people still haven’t found Roof and Lynyrd Crockett, despite an escalating manhunt.
There’s not much for me to do to help, so I spend another day working in the fields with Charlie and Les, Charlie even letting me drive the grain truck.
I’m back in the gym around five in the afternoon, once again working out as if my life depends on it. I don’t even bring my phone with me in here any longer, not wanting any distractions, not wanting to lose my focus, feeling as if staying in shape is my real job.
Part of the plan.
Missing being a quarterback as much as I ever have, the feeling that I always had about being in control. Missing that part as much as I missed any of it, and listening to 16 Horsepower belt out “Haw”:
That road I seen the devil stalking
Dealing only with the dying…
I set down my barbells and crank up the music to the limit, then I walk back over and pick up kettlebells to start doing squats withthem, refusing to give in to the pain or exhaustion, busting right through that, like I’m busting through a wall all over again.
I do fifteen more minutes and only then am I ready to let my thoughts return, allow myself to consider, as I do far too often, what will happen if we can’t nail any of the Crocketts, starting with the old man, for the truly bad shit they’ve done, and keep doing.
As I walk over to turn off the music, I’m startled to see Taylor standing in the doorway, her outstretched right hand heavy on the frame as if that’s the only thing keeping her upright.
There’s a look on her face I’ve seen only one other time—in Burt’s hospital room.
“It’s about Helene,” she says.
ONE HUNDRED FIVE
IT ISN’T A bullet this time.
This time it’s a bomb, Helene Mayes’s car blown up with her in it.
Taylor had seen Jake Courville’s name come up on my phone when it rang in the kitchen. She knew who he was and so she’d answered it. He told her what had happened to Helene, and then she ran to the gym and told me.
Jake’s at Wake Forest Baptist Medical Center when I call him back, tells me that the governor has already arrived at the hospital by helicopter and is meeting with Helene’s doctor.
Taylor and I are in the pickup by now, heading to Wake Forest Baptist ourselves. I have Jake on speaker.
“Dr. Bauer?” I ask.
“You know him?” Jake says.
“Yeah,” I say, shooting a quick look at Taylor.
“Miracle she’s alive,” Jake says. “Doc says that it might be one of the few times whennotwearing a seatbelt might’ve saved her life, because she got thrown from the car along with a whole lot of glass and steel or whatever the fuck else cars are made of.”
There’s a pause on his end.
“Doc says she should’ve probably bled out because a shard of glass from one of the windows lacerated her abdomen pretty bad,” Jake Courville says. “Broke her shoulder, broke both her legs because she got thrown that high and that far. Concussion for sure, and some head bleed.” He goes briefly silent. “But not enough bleeding to have killed her.”
He picks up again.
