Joe winced at the implications of that.
“Why he didn’t just sell it to them or even give it to them to spare his life, we’ll never know,” she said. “Maybe in the end he thought it would dishonor his father’s memory. That kind of fits.”
“It does,” Joe agreed.
She closed the circle. “They want this album so badly that they murdered poor Lola for it. That will always hang over my head. But now,” she said, patting the red leather cover of the album, “they know we have it. The gargoyle saw me with it this morning.”
Joe said, “What we know is that they’ll do just about anything to get it.”
“Correct.”
“I think it’s time to bring the sheriff in,” he said. “This will make his head explode.”
“I wish Nate was here right now,” Marybeth said. His wife would always prefer to have Nate around than any kind of law enforcement personnel. Joe couldn’t disagree.
“So it’s up to us,” he said.
“I’ll make coffee.”
* * *
—
“We have to lure them in and trap them,” Marybeth said as she returned to the table with two mugs. “They’re in the area. We know that. If we want to get them we’ve got to set them up.”
Joe looked at her a long time. “How?”
“Think about it,” she said, again tapping the album. “This is kind of a sensational story. Imagine the hook: ‘Nazi Photo Album Appears at Small Wyoming Library.’ The background of Julius Streicher is as salacious as it can get and right now Der Stürmer is kind of a thing again with the extremists in our own country. Plus you’ve got the Band of Brothers angle. Thanksgiving is always a slow news weekend. If we spun it right, the story could go viral in a hurry.”
“How could we do that?” he asked.
She said, “We announce a press conference tomorrow at the library to reveal the contents of the photo album to the world.”
“Who will show up?” Joe asked, puzzled. Saddlestring was a long way from major media centers.
“Everyone, if we do it online,” Marybeth said. “We have all the technology we need at the library from the pandemic.”
“How do we get the word out?”
“I’m doing it now. And when the girls wake up, we’re going to enlist them to do something they won’t believe. We’ll ask them to bring their phones down to the table. We can have them take photos of the album and some of the photos inside. Between the four of them, they’re connected to every social network out there. Especially Lucy. Fong can post it on Asian networks, I’d guess. This story, if we package it right, could go around the world in no time.”
Joe took a deep breath. He knew she was on to something.
“And we’ve got a secret weapon,” Marybeth said. “Your new best pal: Steve-2 Price. I bet if you asked him he could make it trend on ConFab and get it out to millions of his followers. One way or another, our bad guys will hear about it and be forced to act. That’s when we nail them.”
Price’s contact information was in Joe’s phone. He just hadn’t used it.
“Then I’ll call the sheriff,” Joe said.
“That sounds like a plan,” she said, grinning. Then: “Joe, why are you looking at me like that?”
He reached out and grasped her hand, then stood up to lead her to their bedroom.
“Now?” she asked. “With all of our girls in the house?”
But she squeezed back and followed.
“I’ll try not to shout,” he said.
CHAPTER TWENTY-ONE
The Brothers
László and Viktór exchanged looks inside the motel room when they heard a car pull up directly outside their door. Headlights bathed the outside of the window blinds and leaked through. When they heard a car door slam shut, Viktór launched himself off his bed and approached the window in stocking feet. Behind him, László grabbed the shotgun and checked the loads.
The football game was long over and local news flickered on the television screen in the dark room. A pizza box on the table yawned open, revealing two remaining slices. Empty beer cans from a twelve-pack of Miller Lite stood like chess pieces on the chest of drawers against the wall.
There was a half-inch opening on the right side of the closed blind and Viktór pressed his eye to it. When he saw who was out there, he moaned softly.
“Who is it? Is it that housekeeping guy again?” László whispered.