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He'd told Ski she "flew into a tizzy." "I don't pay no attention to news shows because the only thing on TV fit to watch is Vanna White and old-timey westerns," he'd said. But his daughter caught the news each morning. She'd heard about the fugitive and the elderly couple he had left tied up in their RV when he'd stolen their car. She'd called the sheriff's office, and when Ski arrived at her trailer, Ray Van Mercury had shown him and Dodge to the car's hiding place.
Within an hour, Ski had mustered a sizable search party that included a number of reserve deputies, DPS officers, one man from Merritt's municipal police department who was a notch above the rest, two agents from the nearest FBI office, and several Texas Rangers.
Now he made his way over to the line of vehicles parked along the shoulder of the road where the men were assembled and waiting. The DPS helicopter, which had been circling above the RV park, had followed the parade to the new location and had set down in a clearing near the Mercurys' trailer.
Some of the peace officers had arrived with saddled horses, ready to mount. Others had brought four-wheel ATVs. But Ski doubted their usefulness. The only possible way to get through this part of the Big Thicket was on foot, and even then there were sections that were impenetrable. In addition to the impassable terrain, they'd be subjected to the dangerous wildlife, biting insects, and the sweltering heat. The search wouldn't be a picnic.
Ski got everyone's attention and announced that the search dogs were on the way. "One of the best and most experienced trainers, I'm told." He urged them to use the downtime to check their gear, apply sunscreen and insect repellent, and make sure their water bottles were full.
Then he rejoined Dodge where he stood in the shade of a tree. Dodge took a last pull on his current cigarette, then conscientiously ground it out against the tree trunk and rubbed it between his palms until it had shredded and posed no threat of igniting a fire.
"I can't figure it," he said.
"What?"
"Starks."
"Be more specific."
"Everything. All of it. Nothing he's done fits a pattern."
"I'm with you," Ski said. "Yesterday, after tying up the Mittmayers, he drove all the way to Houston just to place a call on Sally Buckland's cell phone. Why?"
"Maybe that's when he moved her body. He wanted to draw us down there, scare the daylights out of Berry. He wanted to cause us to scratch our asses, just like we're doing. Don't forget his little hummed song."
"Okay. But then he came straight back here. What kind of sense does that make?"
"Fuck if I know. He'd eluded capture. He was driving a car we didn't know about. Why come back?"
Ski thought on it for a moment. "Refuge? He was relatively safe inside the RV. He had a well-stocked pantry. Refrigerator. TV, so he could keep track of what we were doing."
"Advil," Dodge said, picking up Ski's thought.
"He had all the comforts of home at his disposal. The Mittmayers had the camping spot reserved for three nights, and they posed no threat to him. Starks could have holed up there, got some rest, allowed his leg to heal."
"Or rot off."
Ski smiled grimly. "Neighbors are temporary and constantly changing. The inactivity around that RV could have gone unnoticed. He could have stayed hidden until he felt it was safe to make another run at Berry."
Dodge frowned. "Okay, let's say that was his plan. What was he doing out here in Mercury-like-the-car's backyard?"
"He got lost."
Dodge shot him a dubious look.
Ski shrugged. "On his way back from Houston, he missed a critical turn. It could be that simple."
"It could," Dodge said, "but not for a guy who's an expert on mazes."
"Shit." Ski removed his sunglasses and wiped at the sweat dripping off his forehead into his eyes. "We're missing something."
"Or somebody."
Ski gave him a sidelong look. "That's what I'm thinking, too. He's had help."
"I figured Amanda Lofland," Dodge said.
"So did I. But she hasn't left the hospital since she arrived. She's even spending the nights in her husband's room."
