“. . . And then tell you where so you can be there to grab him? Is that the idea?”
“Me or the police.”
“Yes, all right. I should’ve done that when he called last night, shouldn’t I? But I wasn’t thinking straight.” Madison made a deep-breathing sound. “But I doubt he’ll call again. As crazy as he sounded last night . . . I’m afraid, Mr. Runyon. For Arletta more than myself.”
Runyon asked, “As far as you know, does Troy own a firearm?”
“I don’t know. He may have one—he used to go target shooting with a friend of his when we were kids.”
“Do you own one?”
“No. Arletta won’t have a gun in the house. I could buy one, I suppose. . . .”
“Are you firearms qualified?”
“If you mean have I ever fired a gun . . . no, never. I never liked them.”
“Then don’t buy one.”
“Then how can I protect my wife and myself?”
“Notify the police, first thing. Stay home as much as you can, doors and windows locked. Keep a weapon handy, but not a gun.”
“That’s all, for God’s sake?”
“All that makes good sense, until your brother’s caught.”
Madison said, “If he’s caught, if he doesn’t kill Arletta and me first,” and broke the connection.
. . .
Linkhauser Trucking was a small outfit shoehorned between a couple of larger businesses in an industrial area of Hayward. And none too prosperous, judging from the age of the trucks bearing the company name and the run-down condition of the warehouse building and its two loading bays. Hanging on, like so many small companies in the current economy.
Bud Linkhauser had returned from his Central Valley run; Runyon had made sure he was on schedule before driving down the Peninsula and taking the Santa Mateo Bridge across the bay. Runyon found him on the loading dock, talking to one of his handful of employees. The two of them went inside the warehouse, into a corner where a forklift stood guard over a stack of empty pallets, to do their talking.
You tend to think of truckers as big, beefy guys with potbellies and a gruff manner. Linkhauser didn’t fit the stereotype in any of those ways. Short, wiry, losing his hair and compensating for it with a mustache of the same brushy sort Runyon had worn until recently. Soft-spoken and cooperative.
“Nothing much I can tell you,” Linkhauser said. “I haven’t seen Troy in . . . must be three years now.”
“Have you been in touch with his brother or sister-in-law recently?”
“No.”
“So you didn’t know Troy had been arrested again.”
“Not until you told me. Damn shame.”
“But you did know he’s an addict.”
“Meth user, yeah, that’s why I had to fire him,” Linkhauser said. “He showed up stoned a couple of times, didn’t show at all a few others. Unreliable. I got to have men on the job I can count on.”
“And you knew he was selling drugs?”
“Well . . . I heard that’s how he was supporting himself.”
“How’d you hear?”
“From Coy. He tried to get me to give Troy another chance to straighten himself out. I was willing, but the first day he was supposed to come back to work he never showed. After that, well, I just wrote him off. Damn shame, like I said. But what else could I do? I got a business to run and times are tough enough as it is.”
“When was that?”
“Three years ago. Last time I saw him.”
Runyon said, “I understand you and the Madisons grew up together.”
“Down in Bakersfield, right.”
“Close friends?”
“I wouldn’t say close,” Linkhauser said. “Hung out together sometimes.”
“Were the brothers close?”
“Not so’s you’d notice. Always arguing about something. Coy used to beat up on Troy sometimes.”
“Coy did? Not the other way around?”
“Nah. Thing about Troy, he’s a mild guy, you know? Shy, laid-back. Go out of his way to avoid a fight.”
“And his brother was the opposite?”
“Well, not exactly opposite. Coy’s okay until something gets him riled up. Got a temper. Piss him off some way, he’d go after you. That’s the way he was as a kid, anyhow.”
“Troy have a short fuse, too?”
“No. Real easygoing kid.”
“Never retaliated when Coy beat on him?”
“Not that I ever saw.”
“Was Troy afraid of Coy?”
“Seemed that way to me.”
Runyon said, “Coy must care about his brother, if he tried to get you to help him straighten out.”