The Watchman (29 page)

Amos took a seat at the bar in the kitchen. I filled a mug of coffee and shoved it to him. He took a sip and looked over the cup's rim. “That guy's on the ten most wanted list. How'd you get him to confess?”

“It was his idea. Guilty conscience I suppose.”

Amos shrugged. “He kept mumbling something about the angel of death.”

 



 

Hebron, Wyoming

Next day, I drove to Lincoln Armstrong's place to hand in my final report. He received the summary and read it slowly. “I don't know how to thank you, Noah.”

Although it lacked the details of her death, my précis told him where to find his wife's body. In an ironic twist, Ben Marshall buried Abigail at the cabin where I ran into Truman.

During the struggles with Marshall the day he died, my touch revealed he ran into Abigail at the country club the night he received the Hebron Civic Man-of-the-Year award. Fearing she would expose his new identity, he arranged a meeting four days later and killed her.

Armstrong read slowly, and then peered silently into the fire, his long sought goal accomplished. His name was now cleared, all doubts erased. The location of Abby's body was in the report, her murderer found, and now Ben Marshall faced the ultimate Judge. Armstrong could bring her home. Burial would be the final closure that allowed him to grieve and go on with his life. A right denied him for too long.

 

 

 

 

 

25

 

Hebron, Wyoming

A few weeks later, Armstrong invited me to the funeral service. “I've moved Joey's body from California. I'm burying him beside Abigail. She would have wanted that.”

George and I had picked up Goldie Marks in Salt Lake in his new plane. She hobbled down the steps to the tarmac and onto George's plane. In Hebron, we drove in silence to the Armstrong estate.

The double ceremony was simple and touching, with only six people in attendance: Armstrong, Goldie, Pastor Bob Miller, Amos, George, and me. Armstrong kept his promise. The burial place he selected lay by the lake she loved, with a marble headstone beside the redwood bench.

We stood braced against a chilled breeze as two caskets sat on elevator straps over the empty graves. Pastor Miller ended with a simple line from the Beatitudes, “Blessed are the meek, for they shall inherit the earth.”

Tears rolled down Armstrong's face as the bodies lowered. The grave marker listed Abigail and Joey's names, date of birth, and death. The simple inscription read, “Mother and Son, Peace at Last.”

Our small band returned to Armstrong's home for the wake. Underneath the sadness of the occasion lay a feeling of satisfaction—our quest complete.

It occurred to me as I watched Armstrong and Goldie interact that something might develop there. That would be a good thing. They were two lonely people who needed someone to fill their lives.

Before I left, Armstrong pulled me into the library. “I told you I didn't know how to thank you. Maybe this will help.”

He handed me an envelope. It contained my final check from the Armstrong Empire—including a hefty bonus, followed by the offer of a permanent job.

“I'd like to offer you a job in my new security firm. It will offer protection to dignitaries going into danger zones like Afghanistan and Iraq.” He nodded. “I want to hire only the best of the best. Ex-SEALS, Green Berets, Rangers, etcetera. I would like you to head up the division for me. Recruit the best, run the show. I could make it worth your while. I'm calling it
Armstrong
.”

I chuckled. “I bet you had to give that a lot of thought. Your offer is very flattering and sincerely appreciated. But I can't accept, Lincoln. I'm doing the work I love—and I have a wonderful Boss.”

He wagged his head slowly from side to side and smiled. “A man who can't be bought. I like that. I'm sorry to hear it, but I do understand.”

“You wouldn't have an opening in your new division for a Vietnam War hero, would you?”

He hesitated. “You have someone in mind?”

“Yeah, a guy who could use a job, right now. His name is Truman Merchant. Probably not the man to head up your division but perhaps you could find something that fits his particular skills.”

Armstrong reached to shake my hand. “Send him to see me. I'll give him an interview. It's the least I can do for a hero.”

 

 

 

 

26

 

The London home, Hebron, Wyoming

The next day I returned to Cedar Hills Drive.

I eased up to the intercom phone and lifted the receiver. Moments later the gates slid open. From the outside, the house looked much the same, except for the landscaping. Snow had melted and new plants showed signs of spring, a time of new beginnings.

In the circular drive, I stopped at the front entrance and gave the horn a short blast. The neighbors would love that.

Squinting at the morning brightness, Rachel stood in the entryway. Her smile outshone the sun. “I'm so glad you came.” She reached and gave me a lingering hug.

“I wouldn't have missed it.” I maneuvered past her into the foyer.

The interior, at least what I could see, rooted me in my tracks. It popped with color, entirely redecorated—earlier drab walls replaced with candy-apple red and matching tints in throw pillows and painting. “Wow!”

She waved her arms wide. “Do you like it?”

“What's not to like? It looks amazing.”

A loud squeal echoed from the upstairs landing and a bolt of energy shot down the flight of stairs and leaped from the bottom step into my arms.

I caught Cody and swung him to the floor. “Hey, kid, you have to give me a warning before you do that. I'm an old man.”

Cody scoffed. “You're not old.”

“Being around you makes me feel ancient.”

He bounded out the door and yelled over his shoulder. “Come see my tree house! OK?”

I waved. “Sure thing. Be out in a minute.”

Rachel stepped close and touched my arm. “Before the others arrive, I want to say something. I can never—“

I held up my hand. “No need to say anything. You may have noticed it wasn't a one-man show. I only did what anyone would have, and I had lots of help from my friends.”

She placed her fingertips to my lips. “Just let me say this, Noah Adams. You not only rescued Cody and me from Harry's...I mean Marshall's abuse, you risked your life to save my son. I can never repay that. Not ever”

My face grew warm. “You could start by getting me a cup of coffee.”

She released me and led the way into the kitchen. “You're hopeless. Totally hopeless. I'm having a party for the over-the-hill-gang responsible for my liberation, Jake, Amos, George and Norma. Bill and Emma are already here. Jake made all the phone calls.”

“Over the hill? I beg your pardon.”

She laughed. “If the shoe fits—“

I took a stool at the island. “I expect something better from you than clichés. Where's Bill?”

Rachel pointed to the backyard and chuckled. “I put him in charge of the steaks. He says he's a master chef on the grill.”

“How're things going with you and Cody?”

She drew vegetables from the refrigerator and pulled out a cutting board. “We're good. Cody's back in his old school, and I've decided to enroll in law school for the fall.”

I raised an eyebrow and whistled. “Law school? That's a big decision.”

“And one I didn't make lightly. Financially, I'm good for a long time, but I can't sit around and do nothing. I want to help women in my situation, to repay the blessings I've received. I got the idea from Jake. After the home security tapes appeared in the D.A.'s office, the authorities dropped the jailbreak charges. Watching Jake inspired me. He's quite a man, your Mr. Stein.”

“One in a million.”

Rachel glanced around the room. “There were a lot of bad memories here, but we're past that now. Redecorating helped erase all presence of Harry London, and I took a baseball bat to the security cameras. If we decide to sell this place in the future—perhaps find a ranch somewhere—we can do that. Cody loved ranch life. But for now, I think we need time to heal before we make a permanent move.” She laid the knife on the cutting board. “What happened to the real Harold London? Do you know?”

I took a sip of coffee. I couldn't tell her my touch of Marshall during the episode at the cabin revealed the whole story. So I improvised. “I've pieced together most of it. When Ben escaped, he headed north and came to London's lake cabin, the place where Marshall took Cody. He killed London and buried his body on the grounds.

“Apparently while at the lodge, Marshall discovered the similarities in their age and background. He simply took London's identity. The real London was partner in a law firm in New England and had no family. Since Marshall practiced law in San Francisco, he had no trouble taking the Wyoming Bar exam under London's name. He simply became Harold London.”

Rachel shook her head. “Poor man.”

“Marshall hired a detective to dig up all the information on his victim. The reports were at the cabin. London left his law firm in New England after a nervous breakdown. He was recuperating at the cabin when Marshall shot him. With that information it became easy for Marshall to step into the man's shoes.”

The intercom phone rang. Rachel lifted the receiver and said with a smile in her voice, “Glad you're here. Come on up. Noah arrived a few minutes ago.” She released the gate and turned to me. “That's the rest of the party.”

As soon as they were in the foyer, Cody rushed in and grabbed Amos's hand. “Come see my tree house. It's big enough for all of us.”

Amos waved at me, and laughing, followed Cody outside.

George and Norma greeted me with handshakes and hugs. George's eyes inspected my face. “Norma, do you still think he's prettier than I am, with that nose?”

With her back to George, she turned to me and winked. “Yeah, I must say I do. The scar across his nose gives him a rugged, sexy look.”

Tugging his baseball cap down, George said. “I'll be outside if you need me.”

Jake strolled over and surveyed my slightly misshapen beak. “Should have known I'd find you in the kitchen. Why is it that every time I see you, you have a broken bone?”

I smiled into his kind eyes. “Hazardous duty. As to being in the kitchen, Rachel has taken me under her wing since you've stopped feeding me.”

He turned to Rachel. “Better give me some grilling utensils so I can help. You have no idea how much food this boy can put away.” Rachel tied a frilly apron around his waist, handed him metal tongs and sent him out back. I looked at Rachel and shook my head. “Jake will be in charge of the steaks before Bill knows what hit him.”

I put both elbows on the island and leaned toward Rachel. “Any other plans for the future?”

She glanced through the window at Bill as he backed away from the grill and Jake moved in. Her mouth turned up in a gentle smile. “Nothing firm, but there are definite possibilities. Bill was my rock during that horrible hour while I thought Harry shot Cody.” She shivered. “I don't even want to think about it.”

Norma moved to help Rachel, and I joined Amos outside. The weather was still crisp, but the sun's rays soaked into my skin. The sun couldn't compare to the warmth that filled my soul. I had learned to forgive myself.

We stood and watched as a young boy joined Cody under the big oak that held his tree house. Within minutes, Cody laughed and followed his friend up the ladder into his private abode.

God bless the resilience of children.

As I watched Cody and his friend, two small faces floated through my mind—mental pictures of Joey's sad-eyed photograph and Tommy's love for baseball, their violent deaths, all came to the forefront. Children who died too soon—great promise lost in early, senseless violence. Remorse overcame me, so poignant it manifested itself as a sharp pain in my chest.

I punched my hands into my jacket pockets and gazed at a tiny blade of grass trying to get a jump on spring. Perhaps, in some small way, the death of Ben Marshall balanced the scales of justice.

I dedicated Cody's rescue to Tommy and Joey
.

There was no way to save all the abused children.

But by God's grace, I would save all I could.

 

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