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“Oh, and she’s qualified to do that, I guess.”
“It wasn’t that bad, Gall. I swear.”
“You report it to the police?”
Dent shook his head. “We were afraid it would make the news. Bad enough that Van Durbin staked out my apartment last night, and he didn’t even know about the knife fight.”
“Van Durbin see her there with you?”
“He got pictures.”
If Gall’s scowl was any indication, nothing Dent told him had won his approval. “Back to the redneck—he have a name?”
“I think it might be Ray Strickland, Allen’s brother. But that’s only a guess.”
“Why would he come after you?”
“Retribution, maybe.” Dent raised one shoulder in a shrug. “That’s the best Bellamy and I could come up with.”
“Bellamy and you.” He snorted an expletive that Dent hadn’t heard since leaving the military. “Dent, why are you doing this?”
“I told you why.”
“Exoneration. Once and for all. Okay, I get it. But what? The shit your life is in isn’t deep enough? You need this to top it off?” He gave Dent no time to defend his actions. “You could get yourself killed. What good will vindication do you if you’re dead? As for her, do you think she’d want to partner with you if she knew—”
“She knows.”
Gall, shocked silent by Bellamy’s declaration, turned quickly to find her standing behind him.
“I know he was in the state park, quarreling with Susan shortly before she was killed. I saw them. My memory of it came back last night during a heated argument.”
Gall swallowed noisily and for once seemed at a loss for words. “Well…”
She smiled and even reached out and laid her hand on the sleeve of his coveralls. “I know you lied in order to protect Dent. Your secret is safe.”
“You’re not going to tell Moody?”
“I’m more interested in hearing what he has to tell us.”
“Speaking of which,” Dent said, “if we don’t get there soon, he may change his mind and refuse to see us.”
They went outside, but before they boarded, Dent drew Gall aside. “This redneck guy, whoever he is, means business, Gall. Watch your back.”
“Don’t worry about me, Ace.”
“I’m not. I’m worried about me.”
“How so?”
“I plan to hurt him for what he’s done to Bellamy and me. But if he hurts you, I’ll have to kill him.”
“Who were you talking to for so long?”
Bellamy had accepted Dent’s invitation to sit in the cockpit, and, despite her complaint about the discomfort of the headphones, she’d put them on and plugged in so they could communicate.
Staring at the horizon, she released a weary sigh. “Dexter. My agent. He had left twenty or more voice-mail messages, the last one threatening to jump off the Brooklyn Bridge if I didn’t return his call. So I did.”
“And?”
