The road behind him was becoming a steady line of headlights and taillights with no way to identify one car from another. One of them was surely going to be the police car.
The exercise of walking warmed him marginally and he quickened his pace.
The cruiser came back and prowled the road again, but by the time Eddie’s searchlight washed across the Haunted Hayride sign Mike was more than a mile away, lost in darkness and distance, heading away from the road.
With every step the boy drew closer to Dark Hollow.
Chapter 25
Mischief Night—October 30
1
“They’re here,” Val said, and Crow looked up from the menu as two tall men were ushered into the dining room by Erin, the wife of the restaurant’s owner. She brought them to the table, gave the detectives menus, and took orders for coffee—decaf for Ferro, espresso for his partner, Vince LaMastra.
Ferro looked like a younger, less good-humored Morgan Freeman and had an undertaker’s dour face and the hard shark’s eyes of a long-time cop. LaMastra looked every bit the ex-college football player he was, with broad shoulders, blond hair that was cut high and tight, and an out-of-season tan. Crow remembered LaMastra as a jokester, always smiling, but right now he looked as serious as his partner.
“Are we eating and talking, or just talking?” Ferro asked.
“I’m hungry,” said LaMastra. “What’s good here?”
“Everything,” Crow said, “but I can really recommend the pizza. Best anywhere. ”
“That works,” Ferro said and they ordered two pies, one with the works, one plain, both well done. The dining room was large, with grapevines painted on the walls and a wide-screen plasma TV showing Portuguese soccer. Danny, the owner, came by to shake hands with Crow and his friends, flashing everyone a brilliant smile, and left them with a big bowl of steaming baked garlic knots. Crow had ordered them with double garlic.
“Long drive up here,” Ferro said when they were alone. “Lots of traffic. ”
Val leaned her forearms on the table and said, “Then let’s cut right to it. ”
“Works for me,” LaMastra agreed, tearing into the garlic knots.
Ferro said, “Where’s Dr. Weinstock?”
“He had some personal business,” Crow said. “We’ll see him later,”
“Well…that remains to be seen. ”
Val took a folder out of an old leather briefcase that sat on an empty chair, flipped it open, and handed Ferro the top pages. “This is the report from the State Police crime scene investigator who participated in the cleanup after Boyd killed my brother. ”
Ferro hesitated a moment before taking it. “How did you get this?”
“From Saul. ”
“You’re not allowed to have this, you know. ”
“You can arrest me later. Read it, Frank. ”
Ferro gave her a narrow stare before putting on a pair of reading glasses. “Why am I looking at this?”
“Just read it. ”
He did, with LaMastra leaning sideways to read past his shoulders. Ferro started frowning first, but LaMastra caught up. “This is questionable reportage,” Ferro said.
“Yeah,” agreed LaMastra. “Says here that Boyd had a large number of healed-over injuries consistent with bullet wounds. ” He looked up. “‘A large number’?”
“Interesting,” Val said, “isn’t it?”
Crow reached out and tapped a paragraph. “It also says that from initial inspection it looked like Boyd had a partially healed broken leg. ”