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“Yeah, well.” Baker hunkered down over his drink.
“You both disappeared when I wasn’t looking. Thought you might have, well . . .”
“Nah. Caroline keeps a room over the bar. She went up there. She had a headache, she said. I went home.”
“Okay.”
Decker pulled out a picture of Irene Cramer that Kelly had provided and slid it across. “You know her or ever seen her?”
Baker picked up the photo and studied it. “She the gal that got killed?”
Decker nodded. “Irene Cramer. She taught over at the Brothers’ Colony.”
“Schoolteacher, huh? Who’d want to kill a schoolteacher?”
“She also had a sideline. An escort. Went by the name Mindy.”
“Okay,” exclaimed Baker, sliding the photo back. “I’ve never seen her. And I don’t mess with ‘escorts.’ I’ve got four kids. I don’t want any more by accident. I’d rather just drink my beer and watch movies.”
“Know any young punks that might have seen things differently?”
“Oh, yeah, more than a few.”
Decker slid the photo back across. “Then show this around and see what comes up. Now, what do you know about the Air Force station?”
“I pass by it every day going to and coming from work.”
“I went out there and spoke with the commander of the place. Tight-lipped.”
“Yeah, they take things seriously over there, or so I’ve heard. Lots of security.”
“He told me it was a pretty safe place to work, no accidents. But they had a line of ambulances there, so it didn’t make sense.”
Baker took this in, and his features slowly clouded.
“What is it?” asked Decker, who had noted this.
“Well, some of the guys from there used to come into the bars from time to time. I wore the uniform, so we speak the same language. They’re Air Force and I was Army, but still, I did enough joint ops and training to get along with them.”
“Okay.”
“Well, I was drinking with some of them one night. And one fella, think his name was Ben, said something odd. Stuck with me, see? Memorable what he said.”
“So what the helldidhe say?”
Before answering, Baker finished his beer and then looked directly at Decker. “That we were all sitting on a fucking time bomb.”
DECKER ANDBAKEReach had another beer and split a plate of chili, chips, and jalapeños, and then headed out of the saloon. Neither one had noticed the knot of young men who had been closely watching them at the bar. It was dark now, and the streets were emptier than they had been, not only because of the late hour but also because of the fine rain that had begun falling.
They hadn’t gone more than a block down a side street where Baker had parked his truck, and which was also a shortcut to Decker’s hotel, when Decker slowed.
“What’s up?” said Baker, noting this.
“We have some company. And I don’t think they’re friendly. Look.”
Baker gazed ahead where three young men stood, blocking their path.
Then Decker looked behind them.
