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“That’s me,” Russell said.
“I’m Special Agent Luckett, and this is my partner, Special Agent Winger. Do you have time to talk to us a bit?”
“Sure. How can I help you?” Russell asked.
“After everything that happened last night, we were checking in with everyone on site, and Miss Doyle informed us that you quit.”
Russell nodded. “Yeah, I did. I hated to let her down like that, but the wife was pretty rattled when she heard what went on, and she was afraid the killer might come after her and I wouldn’t be here. So, bad as I hated to do it, that’s why I quit.”
Cameron nodded. “I can understand that. Have you lived here long?”
“All our lives, and we’ve known Nola and Tate all our lives, too. Sorry about what’s going on, but my family comes first.”
“Do you know Leon Mooney?” Wade asked.
“Well, I know who you’re talking about, but I only met him up at the Red Cross setup. Didn’t know him beforehand.”
“So he’s not a local?” Cameron asked.
“Naw…don’t rightly know where he’s from.”
“Do you know where he’s staying?”
“Not for sure, but I think he said something about a travel trailer once. You might ask Jonesy. Mooney could have ended up there.”
“We’ll do that, and thanks for your help,” Cameron said.
Russell nodded, and they headed back to the SUV and drove away.
“So, let’s head back to the trailer park. We can get the groceries for Tate on the way, and then talk to the last two men.”
* * *
Hershel, wake up! You need to get up and take your medicine or you’re gonna die like I did.
Hershel moaned. “I’m too sick to get up.”
Get up now and get some water or you’re gonna dehydrate and have a stroke.
“Oh, for the love of God, Louise. I’d rather die than move.”
Well, that’s exactly what’s gonna happen. Mark my words!
Hershel moaned again. His eyes were burning. His skin was so hot it felt sunburned, and he was so parched that his tongue was stuck to the roof of his mouth. He knew Louise was right, and he didn’t really want to die, so once again he threw back the covers and swung his legs off the side of the bed. But the room was spinning, and instead of getting up, he braced himself, waiting for the world to settle.
Finally the dizziness passed and he felt steady enough to stand up. He headed toward the front of the motor home to get some water and was almost there when there was a knock at the door.
“Oh, hell no,” he muttered, and kept on moving toward the refrigerator.
But the knocking persisted, and then someone shouted his name. He looked out a window and recognized two of the three federal agents, and sighed. Whatever this was, better to get it over with.
He staggered to the door and then braced himself against the frame as he opened it.
“Yes?”
“Sorry to bother you, sir, but I’m Special Agent—”
Hershel waved off the introduction with a shaky hand.
