“Look. I don’t know what’s happening here, but I’m guessing my wife put you guys up to this?” said Barber. “Did she tell you who I work for? I don’t think you want to mess—”
“The Indiana State Attorney General’s Office?” said Rich. “What’s next? Is Karen going to threaten me with the power and might of the Illinois AG’s office? I don’t give a shit who you work for or with. And for the record, your wife didn’t put me up to this.”
“Was it my husband?” asked Karen. “I’m sure we can work this out. He doesn’t want a scandal on his hands any more than any of us do. Please. We’ll break this off right now. Never again. I have kids. I don’t know what you plan to do, but I want to see them again more than him.”
Karen broke into the fake crying again, and Barber took over.
“That’s right. It’s over. No more,” he said. “There’s no need to take this any further.”
“Karen. I’m having a hard time believing you care about your kids more than Ride ’Em Cowboy Bill over here,” said Berg, jumping into the mix. “You didn’t look like you were missing them out at the hot tub. What did you do? Leave them with a few frozen pizzas and tell them you’d be back in the morning?”
“They’re at summer camp,” she said. “Harry and I have been on the outs for years. He’s doing his thing this weekend. I’m doing mine.”
“What about your kids, William? Did you pass them off to the grandparents?” said Berg. “Maybe get them a hotel suite and a few cases of beer to share with their friends while you defiled the hot tub and probably every other flat surface in the house? Are you gonna drain the hot tub this weekend, or let your kids sit in it with all of your juices swirling around?”
Barber turned a few shades redder. “My kids are at camp, too. My wife is on a girls’ weekend trip to Michigan City.”
“Really? Are you sure she’s not shacked up back in Illinois?” asked Berg. “Be pretty funny, wouldn’t it?”
Karen had let her boo-hoo routine slip one too many times at this point to keep it going—and she knew it.
“You guys are sick,” she spat. “What do you want from us? Who put you up to this?”
“A daisy chain of events has led us here,” said Rich. “Starting with the very painful demise of a few of your comrades.”
Neither of them responded to the word comrades, which Devin assumed he had used on purpose.
“What are you talking about?” said Barber, trying to stand up and getting slammed back down by Rico. “This has gone far enough!”
Alex got off his stool at the kitchen island, with the laptop, and signaled for Rich to meet him by the bar. This time Devin didn’t hang back. None of them did. Alex put the laptop on the bar, and they huddled around it as Alex quietly walked them through what he’d found.
“You’re not going to believe this,” said Alex. “Location data puts both of them at the Diamond City Marina in Arkansas, about twenty miles southeast of Branson, on Wednesday around four o’clock in the afternoon. They arrived and departed in separate vehicles. The two of them drove about an hour to the Ramada in Mountain Home, Arkansas, where they spent the night. They spent most of Thursday driving here, where they’ve remained. She hasn’t left the house once. Mr. Barber has been to a grocery store, liquor store, and pharmacy.”
“Is her car here?” asked Devin.
“We haven’t checked the garage for a car with Illinois plates,” said Alex. “It appears that they arrived together, but they stopped a few times in and around Indianapolis. They may have stashed her car.”
“Radio Emily and have her check,” said Rich.
Mike made the call over the radio net.
“So what are we thinking?” asked Berg.
“You tell us,” said Rich. “I’ve been doing too much of the talking.”
Berg stifled a laugh. “Looks like you were right about a third generation. I think they dropped their kids—and spouses—off for a few weeks at Comrade Stalin’s Great Summer Camp Adventure. Maybe Mr. Jeffries and Mrs. Barber only stay a week, and these two go at it like rabbits until they have to pick them up. I don’t know. I can’t imagine them taking the whole summer off. Maybe they’re running an abbreviated version of the camp these days, and the parents take turns each summer, bonding as traitors for a few weeks. All I know is that this takes the conspiracy to the next level. Helen never identified any second-generation couples, and two were sitting right in front of her. That’s not meant as an indictment, Devin. Who the hell would imagine they would risk keeping the chain of treason alive for a third generation, when they had so successfully planted the second generation?”