Power of the Raven

“Forget it. We’re screwed,” Paul said at last. “Traffic is snarled up here and I can’t get through.”

More vehicles entered the intersection on the cross street. All were forced to a screeching stop because the utility truck’s sudden maneuver had sent its ladder flying into the middle of the street.

“There goes Harrington,” Lori said, pointing. The van, now at the top of a low hill, disappeared to the east around a wide curve. “Can we turn right and cut him off?”

Gene looked over at her, then at the two full lanes of back-to-back vehicles on her side. “No way.”

“So he’s gone again,” she said softly, and leaned back in her seat.

“Paul, did you get a look at the plates?”

“I only got a partial, but I’m running the few numbers I’ve got against Harrington,” he said, then, after a beat, continued. “Looks like that plate might belong on his Ford pickup. Harrington doesn’t own a van.”

“Harrington had a blue pickup in his driveway,” Gene said. “But something doesn’t make sense here. Why would Harrington bother to switch the plates onto that van? The van didn’t point directly to him, but the plate does.”

“It doesn’t make any sense to me, either,” Paul said.

“I guess I might as well buy you lunch,” Lori said with a shaky smile. “You, too, Paul.”

“Not yet. We need to report this to the police. Let’s head over to the station. We’ll back up your statement, Lori,” Paul said.

“Afterward, we eat,” Lori said. “You guys have been terrific.”

“I’ll have to pass on that lunch invitation,” Paul said. “I’ve got to meet a client as soon as we’re done at the station.”

“Then it’ll be just you and me, Gene,” she said.

“Works for me,” he said, and smiled.

Chapter Six

They were seated inside a small office at the police station, preparing to sign their statements. Sergeant Chavez, waiting with them for the clerk to reappear, offered them coffee.

“Isn’t there any way you can arrest Harrington?” Lori asked, accepting the offered foam cup.

“Not on the basis of what you’ve given us,” Chavez said. “There weren’t any fingerprints on that screwdriver, either. Face it, Ms. Baker. You still haven’t been able to make a positive ID. One of our officers stopped by to interview Harrington, but no one was at home. We’ll keep trying.”

“It’s got to be him. He’s the only person I’ve had a problem with at the DMV. I grew up in this community, and I’ve lived a very quiet life. Most of the time if I’m not on the job, I’m working on my home. It’s a fixer-upper.”

“What about old boyfriends?” Paul said.

“I date on occasion, but not regularly. It’s been at least six months since I went out on a date,” she said. “That’s why I keep saying that it has to be Bud Harrington. His body type and clothing fit, too.”

“That’s not conclusive evidence, Ms. Baker,” Chavez said.

“But the absence of any other possibility—” she said.

“Is still not evidence,” Chavez said, finishing her thought. “We spoke to the suspect after your first complaint and you know how that came out. He claimed he was the injured party.”

Lori took a sip of the hot, bitter coffee, then stood and began to pace. “I’m not sure what else I can do. This isn’t going to just go away.”

“You need to seriously consider taking my advice. Get out of town for a while,” Chavez said. “Whoever’s after you is getting bolder, and that’s not a good sign.”

Just then a clerk came into the room and placed the typed statements before Sergeant Chavez.

Chavez handed them their statements. “Read them over carefully and then sign.”

When they were done, Chavez took the forms. “I’ll follow up on this and take it as far as I can,” he told Lori. “Just don’t expect miracles. You’ve given me very little evidence to go on.”

“There’s the question of how the license plate that belongs on Harrington’s pickup got on that van,” Paul said. “Is there any way you can stake out Harrington’s home?”

Chavez shook his head. “We don’t have the manpower right now. No one’s life is in immediate danger, so it’s not going to be given a high priority,” Chavez said. “I wish things were different, but they are what they are.”

As Paul, Gene and Lori left the building and walked out into the parking lot, Paul spoke. “I have to get on a flight to D.C. tonight and meet with my former boss. The Marshals Service has requested that I review some new evidence that’s turned up on my last case.”

“Do they have a lead on who ordered the hit on the federal judge?” Gene asked.

“I’m not sure. I wasn’t given any details on the phone. I’ll know more when I meet with my district marshal,” he said. “I’ll probably be gone for a day, maybe two, so try to stay out of trouble.”

“We’ll do our best to manage without you,” Gene said in a labored voice, then flashed Paul a teasing grin.

“Do me a favor. Just don’t do anything stupid,” Paul growled.

After Paul left, Gene and Lori walked out to Gene’s pickup. “Do you want me to drive you back to your car, or straight to work?” Gene asked.

“I asked for the afternoon off,” she said. “What I’d really like to do now is drive by Bud’s place.”

“Sure. I was going to take another pass by there again anyway. Maybe Harrington’s home now.”

“If he’s there, we can both talk to him.”

“No way,” Gene said.

“I can’t keep running from him forever, Gene. Better that I should face him when I’ve got someone beside me than run into him when I’m alone.”

For several long moments Gene considered what she’d said, then finally spoke after they’d climbed into his pickup. “Here’s my deal. I’ll take you there and stand by you if you decide you want to confront him—but if there’s trouble, I want you to run back to the truck, lock yourself in and call the cops.”

“I can’t just leave if you—”

“My way or no way,” he interrupted. “Your choice.” He placed the key in the ignition but didn’t start the engine.

She wanted to argue, but knew from the set of his jaw that his mind was made up. “Okay. I agree to your terms.”

He got under way shortly thereafter. “What did you tell them at work?”

“The truth, though I was a little worried about doing that. I didn’t want them to think I posed a danger to the others, and frighten everyone for no reason.”

“How do you like working there?”