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Engine sounds from outside the house penetrated their refuge. Valentine's heightened hearing detected a vehicle slowing as it approached.
"Hey, sir..." Gonzalez said, startled.
"Shh, I hear it, too." Valentine identified a car engine with a bad muffler. It pulled into the Carlsons' yard, and he heard two car doors open and shut. Muffled voices came from upstairs.
Valentine gestured toward the hidden room. Gonzalez kept watch at the stairs, and Valentine worked the pine knot that allowed him to pull open the door. The secret room was a little more spacious with their cots out in Frat's part of the basement. Their packs and weapons were still concealed within.
The ventilation duct let him hear the voices in the living room loud and clear. Mr. and Mrs. Carlson received Major Flanagan and his assistant Virgil in the main room. Even the squeaks of the old chairs could be heard through the air vent.
"What brings you out tonight, Major?" Carlson asked.
"It can't be a second helping of meat pie," Mrs. Carlson added. "I'm all out, and with the rain, there's no rabbits in the traps today. I can roast you a potato, if you want."
"It's a social call, Alan," Flanagan said. "Well, fifty-fifty. It's about the meeting at the tent today."
"What, did we miss an encore?" Mrs. Carlson asked. "Pull himself up by his bootstraps so hard he flew out of the tent?"
"Gwen, your sense of humor needs a good curb bit," Flanagan growled. "But it does have to do with Jim Touchet. He saw someone in your family who really intrigued him. Wants a personal interview, you might say."
Valentine reached for his rifle. It felt comforting in his hand.
"Who, Saint Croix? I'm not sure he's even going to be in the family yet, Mike."
"No, Alan," Flanagan said with a sardonic laugh. "It was Molly. He wants your daughter."
There was a silent pause in the room above. After a full ten seconds, Mr. Carlson's voice echoed forcefully down the vent. "Fuck you, Mike."
Valentine smiled with approval. He had never heard Mr. Carlson say anything stronger than heck before, but the occasion deserved it.
"Are you going to take-7" Virgil's voice demanded.
"Fuck you, too, Virgil."
"Now just wait-"
Flanagan interrupted his lieutenant. "Okay, before we get into a pissing contest, which you'd lose and you know it, Alan, just think this deal through. Listen to what I have to say. Not only would you be doing me a big favor, and I think you owe me one after all these years, but you'd be helping your family, too. They're offering the whole family a two-year bond. Actually it's a five-year bond; they said I could go up to five if I had to. Don't look at me that way, Virgil, she's my niece and they ought to get everything they can out of it.
"Alan, I'll be honest with you. The next five years are going to be tough. You know there are new Reapers in Glarus. I've already got orders to make up lists of who is going to make the cut and who isn't. Your farm is doing good now, but what if you have a bad year? What if the cows catch something? You'd be damn glad you had that bond if something like that happens. And even if you're not on the list, maybe a vampire is passing through and happens to get hungry by your place. You know it happens as well as I do. The lists don't mean shit when they're prowling, but bonds do."
After a moment to let the threats, spoken and unspoken, sink in, the major continued. "It ain't like she'd be gone permanent. I have that from the bishop himself. Touchet is giving talks in Platteville, Richland Center, and Reedsburg, then going back through Madison. Three weeks, she'd be gone. He said he wanted some companionship on the trip. And the bond starts as soon as she shows up at the Church Center in Monroe, so she'll be safe in Madison, even. What can I say, Alan. You've got a real honey of a daughter. She caught his eye."
"Quite a time for this to happen," Carlson said. "I wonder how Saint Croix would like her disappearing with that old lech. So much for them settling down."
"Don't worry about him. Worry about your family, Alan. Saint Croix might understand, after all. I'll have a word with the bishop. Since Saint Croix is practically family, maybe we can offer him the bond, too. Even make getting married to her a condition. That might close the deal. If he's a smart kid, he'll know five years is just what he needs when he's trying to get a farm up and running."
"He's a smart kid, all right," Valentine breathed. "Smart enough to blow your ass off through the floor."
"Let's talk to Molly tomorrow," Mrs. Carlson suggested, obviously to her husband. "And maybe David, too."
Valentine counted twenty heartbeats.
"Okay, Gwen. Listen, Mike. I'm sorry I got riled. You, too, Virgil. I was just a little surprised is all. When you're a father, your little girl is always six years old. She's a grown woman; I forget sometimes. But why her? There were prettier girls at the meeting."
"Not according to Touchet. Virgil, go wait outside. Alan, if you don't mind, I'd like a private word with Gwen."
"Okay, Major. I'll sleep on it. Call you tomorrow. Good night."
"Night, Alan."
