Страница 14 из 111
A noise. Far away but getting louder. A high-pitched cluster of sirens. The police and the emergency crews were finally coming.
Cavanaugh studied the forest one more time and murmured to the group, "I think we're going to make it."
"Whatever pressure you put on me, I can take," William said.
"What?"
"I went to Harvard law school. Nothing's more brutal than that. I'm holding you to your promise to teach me. And while you're at it, who the hell is Fairbairn?"
"When this is over, I'll tell you." Taking refuge in his protector's role, Cavanaugh distracted William from present fears by projecting him into the future.
Chapter 2.
They stayed within the forest, moving southward along the edge of the smoldering meadow.
"You think the sniper might still be on that ridge?" William kept glancing in that direction.
"He might have risked staying, in case we get careless when help arrives. It's better if we don't step into the open."
When the sirens stopped, Cavanaugh turned toward the silence. Through a gap in the trees, he saw scattered, burning timbers: all that remained of the lodge. To subdue another burst of fury, he focused on movement within the smoke, relieved to see that five of his horses had survived. They gathered nervously near the one that had been killed. Sickened, he shifted his gaze toward the countless bullet holes in his car, its windows starred, some of them shattered. Thinking of Angelo's body inside it, he felt his fury intensify.
Immediately, the horses bolted as a highway patrol car, dark chassis, white roof, flashers on, emerged from the lane. Even at a distance, Cavanaugh detected the shock on the face of the uniformed driver when he saw the damage.
Then a forest-service fire truck emerged, and its occupants looked stu
They managed to move the van that was blocking the lane, Cavanaugh thought. A further idea struck him: Or maybe some of the gunmen drove it away.
With Jamie watching the trees behind them, he led William and Mrs. Patterson around the southern curve of the forest and only then stepped into the lane, the trees still shielding them from a sniper.
At almost the same time, a highway patrol car came around a curve, the driver slamming on his breaks at the sight of them.
"Set down your weapons," Jamie warned William and Mrs. Patterson as she and Cavanaugh put down their own.
"Let him see your hands are empty," Cavanaugh emphasized.
The state trooper, a captain, had his fingers on his holstered pistol as he got out of the car, but then he gave Cavanaugh a closer look. "Aaron?"
Cavanaugh had used his legal name when he'd bought his property. If an enemy who knew him only as Cavanaugh had hoped to track him down by searching through land records, the effort would have been useless.
"Nice to see you, Garth."
The trooper looked surprised. "My God, with all that soot and dirt on you, I didn't recognize you."
"We had a little trouble."
"So I hear. On the radio, the first officer to get here told me your place looks like a war zone."
Garth had a solid build from weight lifting. He was tall, with strong cheekbones and a dark mustache. He spent so much time outdoors that his face had the grain of weathered wood, his tan emphasized by the green of his uniform and trooper's hat. Like any expert police officer, his eyes were constantly alert, even off duty when he, Cavanaugh, and Jamie sometimes ate di
Those eyes were very alert now. "Jamie, is that blood on your shoulder?"
"Yes, but it isn't mine."
Cavanaugh thought angrily of the blood spatters inside the Taurus after Angelo was shot.
"Lillian . . ." Garth frowned at Mrs. Patterson. "You're wavering. Come over to the car and sit down."
With an unsteady hand, she pushed gray hair from her face. Dirt streaked her apron. "Thanks, Garth. It's been a long afternoon."
"You'll find four dead men in the western edge of the meadow," Cavanaugh said.
"Dead? How?"
"Shot."
"Who pulled the trigger?"
At this point, Cavanaugh would normally have requested a lawyer to make sure that he didn't say something that became misinterpreted. But he had one of the best attorneys in the country standing next to him.
"I did," Cavanaugh said. "You'll find a fifth body in my car, or what's left of my car. One of the other guys pulled that trigger."
Chapter 3.
Mrs. Patterson's late husband, Ben, had been a Wyoming state trooper who died in a shootout with a gang trying to hijack a truck filled with pharmaceuticals. Known as Lillian to every officer assigned to Teton County, she was interviewed first, then escorted back to the waiting room at the highway-patrol barracks ten miles south of Jackson.
"I phoned your son-in-law to let him know you can leave now," Garth said. "He'll soon be here to drive you to your daughter's place. Your family's eager to see you."
"I'll wait with you in the front hallway," Jamie told her.
William was the next person taken to the interview room. Twenty minutes later, he came back, the satisfied look on his face indicating that, while he might not know anything about guns, he knew how to conduct himself with law officers. Now that he was in lawyer mode again, his torn, filthy suit somehow looked dignified.
Jamie went next. Cavanaugh had taught her to answer police questions directly but never to provide more than what was asked and never to attempt to deceive.
Then it was Cavanaugh's turn. The room had harsh lights, plain walls, two chairs, and a small desk. Focusing on minutiae helped keep his emotions in check.
"Want some coffee?" Garth pointed toward a carafe and some Styrofoam cups on the desk. A tape recorder was there, also.
"I could use the caffeine," Cavanaugh said, pouring a cup. His watch showed that it was half past ten. But now that his adrenaline had dissipated, he felt as if it were four in the morning.
"Ready?" Garth asked.
"When you are." The stench of smoke radiated from Cavanaugh's jeans and shirt. His neck and arm hurt. His back felt bruised where the bullet had struck his armor. But at least his legs and chest felt lighter, relieved of the heavy vest.
Garth pressed buttons on the recorder. "This is Captain Garth Braddock. The interview is with Aaron Stoddard." He gave the place, time, and date. "Tell me what happened."
While waiting, Cavanaugh had taken the opportunity to get his narrative in order. Only after concluding his description, did he allow his emotions to show. "I haven't the faintest fucking idea what's going on."
"We found your sniper."