“We’re on top of things,” Rountree said again.
Rountree walked past them and climbed into his car. Winston heard the engine start. He turned and watched Rountree back up and drive toward the parking lot.
Glenn broke the silence. “It’ll be nice to have that airplane out of here, Sheriff,” he said. “Regardless of where it goes next or what happens to it.”
“We’ve still got a murder on our hands,” Winston said. “I wish they cared half as much about that as they do about this damned plane or whatever was in it.”
“I know,” Glenn said. “We’ll figure it out.”
Winston didn’t respond. “Where’s Groom at?” he finally said.
Glenn looked over at Winston. “Marie came by here looking for you an hour or so ago. She’d been out picking up more campaign posters.”
“Really?” Winston asked.
“I told her you were at the office. Groom asked her if he could catch a ride back to y’all’s house.” Glenn looked at Winston a moment longer as if trying to predict how he’d respond, and Winston didn’t know quite what to make of it: neither Glenn’s look nor the news he’d just shared.
“How’s she doing?” Glenn asked.
“Pretty good, apparently.”
“That’s great,” Glenn said. “Me and Elsie have been praying for her.”
“I appreciate it,” Winston said, looking away from Glenn’s face and doing his best to conceal the warmth that crept up his neck and onto his cheeks. “Marie appreciates it too.”
Winston’s friend David Worley’s white Ford truck sat behind Marie’s Buick in the driveway so Winston parked on the road in front of the house. worley’s self-storage and equipment rental and the business’s phone number were lettered on the truck’s tailgate and both doors.
Inside, Winston found Marie, Groom, and David’s wife, Dianne, standing around in the kitchen. Dianne’s glasses were pushed up on her head and her purse was still slung over her shoulder as if she’d just arrived or was just about to leave.
“Dianne, I thought you’d be David,” Winston said.
“Sorry to disappoint,” Dianne said. “I’ve got the truck for a few days. David took the car up to Asheville to see about his mother. She’s not doing well.”
“I hope everything’s okay,” Winston said.
“She’s just getting older,” Dianne said. She sighed. “We all are, I guess.”
When Dianne said that, Winston happened to notice the campaign posters that were lying on the counter beside her: the face of his younger self stared back at him with a stoic smile that was designed to evince calm and protection. Winston wondered whether or not he could feign that smile now.
“I had to go get more from the printer,” Marie said. “Colleen and I ran out today. I called the office, but I couldn’t get ahold of you, so I just went ahead and had them printed.”
“Where’s Colleen at?” Winston asked.
“Off somewhere with Danny Price,” Marie said.
“I was hoping we could all go out,” Winston said. “Take Agent Groom here for some shrimp and flounder. I wish she would’ve stayed home.”
“Well, it’s Halloween and she’s out having fun,” Marie said. “She needs to have a little fun.”
Groom had stood listening as everyone spoke, and now he reached out and picked up one of Winston’s campaign posters.
“You going another term, Sheriff?” Groom asked.
“I reckon so,” Winston said. “We’ll see what the voters decide.”
“His opponent’s just a nasty man,” Marie said.
“Marie,” Winston said. He raised his eyebrows to show her he didn’t want her speaking that way in front of someone they didn’t know.
“I’m sorry, Winston,” she said. “I just can’t help it.”
“He is,” Dianne said. “I have to agree with Marie.”
Winston laughed. “That’s enough now,” he said. He looked at Groom. “You get settled in?”
“Yes, sir,” Groom said.
Winston wanted to mention the drug bust and the arrests and evidence down in Myrtle Beach, but he didn’t want to say a word of it in front of Marie, both because he was afraid she’d embarrass him in front of Groom with her own ideas of what it would mean, and because he wanted to appear professional, to make clear that he knew how to handle and protect sensitive information.
That night, over a dinner of grilled cheese sandwiches and tomato soup, Groom told Winston and Marie about flying missions in the C-47 in Vietnam, cruising so low over rice paddies and villages that he could see people’s faces as they raised their hands to shade their eyes to look up at him.
“Were you scared?” Marie asked. She dipped a wedge of sandwich into her soup and took a bite, the melted cheese stretching out so that she caught it with her finger before it snapped free.
“Marie,” Winston said, not quite scolding her for asking a question like that, but letting it be known that Groom didn’t have to answer if he didn’t feel comfortable.
“I wouldn’t say I was scared,” Groom said. “You’re aware, sure, aware of what all could happen to you.” He put a spoonful of soup into his mouth and looked across the table into the darkened living room as if he were looking into his past and studying it carefully. He swallowed. “In the C-47, the pilot was doing the flying and the aiming. They fit the window with a target, and the mini guns in back were aimed to hit on what you sighted. You know you’re going to take fire. You just hope the guys in the back are giving it better than you’re getting.” He shook himself from his trance, turned back to his plate. “Every flight you take is an exercise in faith,” he said, smiling. “Especially out there in the jungle. But that’s what made it fun sometimes.”
“Doesn’t sound fun to me,” Marie said.
Groom laughed. It was the first bit of good humor Winston had seen him express since he’d arrived. “It wasn’t fun for the Viet Cong either,” he said. “That particular aircraft scared them to death. They called them Ghost Planes.”
“That sounds like what we’ve got on our hands out at the airport right now,” Winston said. He took a sip of tea, and then he pushed himself back from the table and looked at Groom. “I couldn’t find a single fingerprint in that damn plane.”
“That would prove an unusual level of sophistication,” Groom said. He picked up his napkin from his lap and wiped his mouth. He folded it and placed it back on his lap. “But guys like those will slip up. They always do.”
After dinner, while Marie cleaned up in the kitchen, Winston found Groom smoking on the front porch.
“Thanks for dinner,” Groom said.
“You bet,” Winston said. “It wasn’t much.”
“It was plenty,” Groom said. “And thanks for letting me stay.”
“Don’t mention it.” Winston put his hands in his pockets and rocked back on his heels, his mind turning over the best way to say what he was about to say. “We might have a little news on our airplane,” he finally said.