Madman on a Drum by David Housewright Read Free Book Online Page B

as well as he knows you. I am deeply concerned about what might happen if Thomforde saw him.”
    â€œThomforde will be suspicious if anyone goes looking for him,” Harry said. “But McKenzie”—Harry waved a finger—“isn’t the cops. He isn’t us. If Thomforde discovers that McKenzie is looking for him, he’ll think it’s just McKenzie and not law enforcement. He’ll still believe that he has the upper hand. He’ll still think he’s in charge. He won’t panic.”
    Honsa stared at Harry as if he were looking at a traitor. “No,” he said.
    â€œWe need to send somebody,” Harry said.
    â€œI’m not going alone,” Karen repeated.
    â€œNo,” Honsa said.
    â€œYes,” Shelby said. “Victoria is my daughter. I say yes.”
    We all turned toward her. She was still sitting on the staircase, still peering through the posts. I had forgotten that she was there.
    â€œMrs. Dunston, it’s against my better judgment,” Honsa said. “If Thomforde sees McKenzie coming…”
    I felt the weight of Shelby’s eyes fall on me.
    â€œHey, Scottie,” I said.
    Honsa pivoted toward me. I walked up to him, slipped my arm around his shoulder, hugged him close. “Scottie. Man, you gotta help me. For old time’s sake. I know you don’t like Bobby Dunston cuz of what happened. I don’t blame you. But someone just took his kid. Someone kidnapped his little girl, man, and we can’t tell the cops. You gotta help me. You’ve been around. You know people. You can ask questions, okay? You gotta help me find her. Will you help?”
    Honsa stared at me for a moment as if I were drunk, dangling car keys in his face.
    â€œI don’t like this,” he said.
    You think I do? my inner voice replied.
    â€œBe careful,” Honsa said.

5
    It was nearly 7:00 P.M. when we walked out of Shelby’s Place, but daylight savings promised us at least another half hour of sun.
    â€œI’ll drive,” I said and led Karen Studder to my Audi 225 TT coupe parked on the far side of Wilder. She circled the light silver sports car, examining it carefully before speaking to me across the roof while shielding her eyes against the setting sun.
    â€œYou’re not a cop, are you?” she said.
    â€œNo.”
    â€œI didn’t think so. This car—if you’re a cop and you drive up to 367 Grove Street in this, Internal Affairs would be all over your ass.”
    I let the comment slide, although she was right. You don’t see many luxury sports cars in the parking lot of the St. Paul Police Department. I thumbed my key chain to unlock the doors. When we were both safely inside the Audi, Karen said, “I wish I had a car like this. How much does a car like this cost?”
    â€œFifty thousand dollars.”
    â€œWell, maybe someday.”
    I snapped my seat belt into place, and Karen did the same.
    â€œWhere to?” I asked.
    â€œYou know, we could make this a lot easier on ourselves. Just make some phone calls, call the house, call Scottie’s employers, call his mom…”
    â€œWhere to?”
    Karen sighed significantly. “His job first,” she said. “See if he’s been in today. Then the halfway house.”
    I fired up the engine.
    â€œDo you have a gun?” Karen asked.
    â€œI can get one.”
    â€œNo.”
    â€œAre you sure?”
    â€œNo guns.”
    â€œWhat if …?”
    â€œNo guns,” she repeated.
    â€œYou’re the boss,” I said.
    â€œSince when?”
    I pulled away from the curb. Bobby and Shelby were watching from the window as I drove off.
    Â 
    Karen directed me to I-94 and told me to take the Dale Street exit and hang a left. As I drove, she said, “If you’re not a cop, what are you doing here? Why are you doing this?”
    â€œCall it a favor for a friend.”
    â€œA