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“No. It was dark as pitch outside. She was running blind and didn’t see the pole. It knocked her senseless. She’s got a concussion and cuts on her feet. None that serious.”
Elle asked, “Had she told Frank where she was?”
Compton looked rueful. “We didn’t even have to ask before she broke down and confessed. She blames herself for the murders.”
“If she’d been at home, she would have been killed along with her husband.”
“We emphasized that, but…” Compton sighed. “They’re keeping her in the hospital for at least another day. Her mother is with her, and we posted a guard outside the door of her room.
“We’ve also doubled the guards on Mr. Cooper and Mrs. Martin. So far there haven’t been any more death threats, unless you or Calder have received one we don’t know about.”
Elle shook her head, but Compton was searching her eyes for a telltale sign of lying. “We shut our phones down.”
“Yes, I realize,” the detective said. “Why did Calder take the pistols off the deputies?”
“He saw their bloody bodies. He assumed that Dawn had met the same fate. We didn’t know if the shooter had given up on us or if he was right behind us. So take a wild guess as to why Calder took the pistols.”
Compton caught her snideness. “You’ve lost faith in us. I get that. But we’re very much aware that all five of you are still vulnerable. Let us do our job, Elle. You came out okay this time, but taking matters into your own hands was foolhardy.”
“It didn’t seem so at the time.”
“Don’t do it again.”
“I understand.”
“Does he?”
She was saved from having to answer as Perkins rejoined them. “APB is in the works. He can’t have gone far. His head start was only about ten minutes.”
Glenda had been standing by, following the lengthy conversation with obvious impatience. She said now, “When are you going to tell her?”
“Tell me what?” Elle asked.
“Mr. Hudson—”
Glenda cut Compton off. “You can attribute the Fairground shooting to Calder Hudson. Everyone who was killed or injured that day, those deputies last night, the Whitley man, our sweet Charlie…” Her voice cracked. “They’re all dead because of him.”
Chapter 31
Calder was new to evading capture, but even the most inept fugitive from justice knew that flight was priority number one.
Glenda had told Elle that she and the detectives would be at the house within ten minutes. They would discover him gone, question Elle, and then immediately initiate a broad-stroke search that would have every cop within a fifty-mile radius on the lookout for the SUV he was driving. Its convoluted ownership notwithstanding, it wouldn’t take long to locate. By then he needed to be away from it, so every second counted.
Of course, that plan would leave him afoot. Then what? Fuck if he knew. He might have had years of experience maneuvering, as Elle had called his tactic, but he was playing this by ear.
From the freeway, he spied one of those mammoth gas stations that took up a lot of real estate along the access road. In addition to having one hundred fuel pumps, it boasted no-wait restrooms, an acre of shopping opportunities, a liquor store, and numerous eateries. Every variety of car and truck came and went around the clock. With any luck, all that vehicular activity would provide camouflage.
Calder took the exit and navigated the crowded parking lot, yielding to pedestrians and dodging drivers competing for parking spaces. He found a space between a bus-sized RV and a dually pickup. To anyone else, it was undesirable, but it served his purpose of hiding something in plain sight.
Working quickly, he transferred everything from the pockets of his leather jacket into the pockets of his jeans, then folded the jacket and stuffed it beneath the passenger seat. It was pricey. Anyone wearing it would be more easily noticed and remembered than a guy in a wrinkled white shirt. He left the key fob under the floor mat.
With the laptop he’d borrowed from the house tucked under his arm, he walked along the access road to the next nearest commercial complex, which included more modest gas stations, several restaurants, and a chain hotel. He picked the hotel.
When he entered, trying to look like a registered guest with a right to be there, the young woman at the check-in desk didn’t even glance up from her computer monitor.
The lobby expanded into a multistory atrium. The bar and café were presently closed. No one was in there except for a custodian pushing an electric buffer across the floor.
Off to one side of the spacious area was a room designed to serve as a temporary office for guests. He chose the workspace nearest the window, so he’d have a view of the front parking lot.
