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It’s been a long time since he believed in Santa Claus, of course. What he believes in now, mostly, is his daddy. He thinks Carl hung the moon. Randy and Patricia have seen to it that he knows Carl’s ideas about things. They tell him about how men like Carl are smart enough to see everything that’s wrong in this country, and that’s why the government and the law hate and fear them and want to shut them up. Jeremy has caught on. Grabbed on, really. I’m glad of it. But it worries me.
I got off the track, which I do a lot whenever I write in this diary. I start thinking back and then…See? There I go again.
After the congregation sang “Silent Night” at midnight to candlelight (I had a candle, too. Everybody did. The people on either side of me had no idea that they were sitting next to a noted outlaw! Bet they would have croaked!)…Anyhow, everyone started filing out of the church. Except me. I went into the ladies’ room, which I’d made sure to locate before I took my seat in the sanctuary.
Only one other woman came in. She did her business quick and left. Her family was probably waiting on her. I stood on the toilet seat in case a janitor or somebody came in to check the stalls and see if everybody was gone, but the lights went out with me still balancing up there.
I waited another ten minutes like Carl had told me to, then turned on my flashlight and left the restroom. What had looked so pretty in the candlelight looked kinda spooky in the dark. The statues and all. But I tried not to look at anything except the circle of light I directed to the floor.
I let Carl and Henry in through a side door. No alarm sounded, but Carl said it was probably a silent one. Henry joked and said, “Only God can hear it, I guess.” I didn’t think it was funny. Carl sorta laughed, but he was focused on picking the lock on the church office door.
We grabbed the bags the ushers had emptied the offering plates into and got the heck out of there. But there must have been a silent alarm, because when we ran out of the church, there was a policeman just stepping out of his patrol car. He pulled his pistol and hollered for us to halt. Carl shot him in the chest. Henry got him in the head, I think.
As we were running to the car, Henry fired at the figures in the Nativity on the church lawn. He claims he doesn’t believe in God or Jesus or Allah or anything, but he sure bears them a grudge.
We made a safe getaway and came away with good cash. But I felt awful about it and didn’t get high like the men did after we boarded the boat and started south. I hope the sailor, or whatever it is you call the guy who drives the boat, can drive it when he’s stoned. They all got stoned good. Carl included, which is why I felt it was okay to get out my diary and write.
I hope Jeremy likes his presents. I haven’t seen him since we went to Vancouver this past summer. I can’t get over how grown he is! A man, really. I was shocked when we hugged and I felt whiskers on his chin! I don’t know when I’ll get to see him again. I’ve started mentioning his high school graduation which will be in the spring. I say over and over again how much I wish I could be there. Carl acts like he doesn’t hear me. But maybe he’ll take the hint.
The sun’s coming up and I’m seasick from writing, so I’d better put this way. But not before saying, Merry Christmas, Jeremy. I love you.
* * *
Dec. 25th, later. We get TV even out here on the ocean, and on the news they were talking about the burglary at the church. The policeman died. He was only twenty-seven. He had a two-month-old baby girl. Hearing that kinda made me sick to my stomach, so I used that as an excuse to come below and get away from Carl, who’s in a mean mood.
I think because the news people quoted that FBI agent Gary Headly, who’s been after us for years. Carl hates him with a passion. I think on account of he’s a little afraid that one of these days Agent Headly is going to capture us like he’s pledged to do.
Also Carl hates him because he was at Golden Branch, and he never fails
to mention that whenever he’s interviewed about us. Carl hates being reminded of that day. So do I. Even if Carl doesn’t admit it, I think deep down he was awfully scared that day, too. Scared of being killed or of getting caught. I also think he feels guilty over doing what he did and leaving like that when everybody else was dead or dying.
Anyhow, he blames everything that happened that day on the feds and, in his mind, Headly sorta represents all of them. Carl won’t be happy till Agent Headly is dead.
Chapter 21
Headly’s bad news had to wait.
Just as he was about to impart it, Hunter and Grant came into the kitchen asking for a snack. Since breakfast had amounted to an overdose of sugar, Amelia offered them milk or nothing. They took the milk, but dawdled over it as though aware of the adults’ impatience for them to finish. When they were finally done, she wrangled them back into the living area to continue their movie.
The moment she reentered the kitchen, Headly picked up where he’d left off. “For all the reasons we’ve discussed, Tucker isn’t convinced that Stephanie DeMarco’s murder is related to Amelia beyond the fact that Amelia was her employer.”
“Stubborn jerk,” Dawson said. “Wills?”
“Leaning toward Knutz and me. But, you know, we’re the big, bad, buttinsky FBI, and he’s loyal. Sheriff is backing his man, too. Tucker shared the Jeremy-is-alive theory with him. No fool, he recognizes that it will be hard to live down if we’re wrong. He’s asked for further analysis on the fingerprint. Now, about Bernie. The sheriff was quick to point out that he hasn’t been charged with a crime.”
“Not as Bernie, no.”
“Well, he thinks the Carl-Bernie connection is thin and is demanding more concrete evidence of that before launching a full-scale manhunt for a fugitive that nobody’s heard from in seventeen years.”
“The Bureau doesn’t need his authorization.”
“No…” Headly said with marked hesitancy.
“But what? What’s the upshot?”
“Keeping guards on Amelia and the children isn’t warranted. They plan to withdraw them.”
“They can’t.”
