Red Hood's Arc

Chapter 8 of 8

Red Hood reached the fork an hour before dusk. The iron lamppost stood where the two tracks met, its glass cracked, its base scuffed by fresh boot prints. He circled it once, then climbed the low bank above the road and lay flat behind a stand of dry grass. From there he could see anyone approach from either direction. He had a name and a place. He did not have a face. That was the hole in his plan. Tomas would come at dusk, and so would other men on other errands — a farmhand, a drunk, a traveler cutting through. If Red Hood stepped out and grabbed the wrong man, the real Tomas would see the scuffle from the trees and run. He would lose the only thread left. A sound came up the track behind him. He turned with his hand on his belt. Deku climbed the bank in his bright sneakers, breathing hard, a pair of dark sunglasses folded in one gloved hand. "The prisoner told me more once you left," Deku said. He sat low beside Red Hood. "He said Tomas wears these. He took them off him last winter and lost a tooth for it. Purple and orange frames. He said you can't miss them at dusk because the man never takes them off." Red Hood took the sunglasses. The frames were exactly as described. "Why didn't he say this to me?" "He was angrier at you. I just sat there. He started talking to fill the quiet." Red Hood almost smiled. "Go back to the hollow. Don't let him think we traded notes." Deku slid back down the bank and was gone. The sun dropped. Three men passed the lamppost in the next hour. A farmer with a mule. A boy carrying a sack of onions. An old man limping east. Red Hood let each one go without moving. Then a fourth man came up the south track. He walked with his hands in his coat pockets and his head tilted down. Purple and orange frames sat on his nose even as the light failed. He stopped under the lamppost and looked both ways. Red Hood came off the bank at a run. The man turned at the sound and reached inside his coat. Red Hood hit him low, drove him into the post, and pinned his wrist before the knife cleared cloth. The sunglasses fell into the dirt. "Tomas," Red Hood said. It was not a question. The man's face went slack. That was answer enough. Red Hood bound his hands with the scarf from his own belt and pulled him off the road into the trees. He had the contact. He had him alive. Now he had to learn who Tomas answered to, and whether the sheriff two towns over could be trusted with two prisoners instead of one.