Full Metal Jack

by Diane Capri

The third explosion blew the remains of the old barn sky high.

  “Woo hoo!” he cackled and slapped his palm on the steering wheel.

  Fire trucks would be on the way soon.

  He turned onto the dirt road and sped away from Carter’s Crossing as fast as the old beast would move.

  CHAPTER THIRTY-TWO

  Thursday, May 12

  Carter’s Crossing, Mississippi

  2:45 p.m.

  When Sheriff Greyson opened the conference room door, Kim walked in first and Perry followed. This was what passed for a secure situation room in a small, rural county like this one. Due to budgeting issues, the room likely served multiple purposes.

  She assumed it was soundproofed and monitored and had no interior or exterior windows. But it was tastefully decorated in shades of brown and green like the executive offices in any larger city.

  A butler’s table on one side held coffee and water and sodas. Two large flags stood in the corner. One was the Mississippi state flag, and the other the U.S. flag. A few potted plants had been placed here and there. The artwork on the walls reflected Mississippi landmarks.

  Mayor Deveraux was seated at the head of a large oval table opposite the entrance, head down, reading reports. Her wildly curly hair was still fastened at the nape of her neck, and she was wearing the heavy makeup leftover from her earlier television interview.

  She glanced up over her reading glasses as they entered, her expression neutral.

  “Someone want to tell me why we’re here?” Major Perry asked.

  Kim snagged a bottle of water and took a seat where she could see all the participants clearly. Perry and Greyson did the same and settled across the table.

  Greyson said, “Mayor’s got questions. Easier to bring everybody up to speed all at once. We need to get on the same page. Help us to work together more effectively.”

  Before he could say more, fire trucks raced past the building, distinctive sirens blaring. Deveraux’s phone vibrated beside her on the table. She glanced down to read the alert.

  Greyson’s phone lit up, too. He opened the alert to read it.

  “What’s going on?” Perry asked.

  “An old barn ignited ten miles west of town. The fire department’s on the way,” Deveraux said, without meeting Perry’s gaze. To Greyson, she said, “You got a team you can send out there, just in case they need help?”

  “Yeah. Let me get that going,” Greyson pushed his chair from the table and left the room.

  They waited in silence. This was a small town with a small department, but it seemed they’d had more problems than they could handle here lately.

  Greyson returned minutes later and settled into his chair again. Kim thought he looked worn out.

  “Everything okay?” Deveraux asked.

  “There’s nothing out there worth saving anymore. It’s the old Gordon Farm. Nothing been planted out there in decades,” Greyson replied.

  “If there’s nothing going on out there, what caused the barn to ignite?” Perry asked. “Spontaneous combustion seems unlikely, doesn’t it?”

  Greyson shrugged. “Kids maybe.”

  “Shouldn’t kids still be in school?” Kim asked.

  “We’ll find out soon enough.” Greyson ran a weary hand over his head. “Fire trucks will get out there pretty quickly, and we’ll have more intel.”

  Deveraux exchanged a meaningful look with the sheriff before she said, “You were about to bring us all up to speed. Let’s get to it. We don’t know how much time you’ve got.”

  “Right. You’ve met Agent Otto,” Greyson said, extending his right palm in Kim’s direction. Then he waved to his left. “This is Major Lincoln Perry. Pentagon sent him here on the Bonnie Nightingale murder. They’ve seen the autopsy report. They sent another guy to Kelham. Major Eugene Hammer. Goes by Hulk Hammer. They’ve got the base locked down. He’s interviewing everybody now, gathering facts. We should know more in a few hours.”

  “What’s he looking for?” Deveraux asked, turning her gaze toward Perry.

  Perry replied, “I haven’t talked to him. I’m supposed to be undercover, eyes and ears open and liaise with the locals and all that. But I imagine he’s trying to find a viable suspect.”

  “Sort of like looking for a needle in a haystack, isn’t it?” Kim said with a smirk.

  “How so?” Perry replied.

  “The operating theory is that Nightingale was probably killed by an Army Ranger, due to the manner of death. One quick slice across the neck. Swift and hard and sure. No hesitation marks. No bruising. No messing around,” Kim said matter-of-factly. “Kelham is filled with Rangers. Which means, in this case, filled with viable suspects. Makes the investigation a bit tricky when everyone Hammer interviews could be the killer. Hard to separate the wheat from the chaff in a situation like that.”

  Major Perry offered a lazy grin. “If the job was easy, Agent Otto, the army wouldn’t need high-priced talents like me and Hammer on the job, would they?”

  Deveraux gave him a tight grin in response. “There was a time when I really, really loved that kind of swagger, Major Perry. When I was on active duty, every Marine in the place behaved the same way. Including me. And Sheriff Greyson here. Most of the time, it was pure theater.”

  She cleared her throat. “But right at the moment, I’m more interested in results than attitude.”

  Perry glared at her. He clearly didn’t like being challenged. Kim wondered if he had a problem with authority in general or women in authority in particular.

  “Either you or Hulk Hammer have any results to report?” Deveraux’s lips twitched as if mirth at his squirming would bubble over if she didn’t force it back.

  Kim watched the back and forth, understanding that gallows humor was one way to handle the crimes they all dealt with every day. Besides, Hulk Hammer was a ridiculous nickname. Particularly for military police. He’d probably received no end of grief over it.

  Kim wondered what kind of guy would allow that particular moniker to stick. If she got the chance, she’d ask him.

  “Nothing to report just yet.” Perry wasn’t amused. He bristled at Deveraux’s teasing. “And even if we did, we wouldn’t be reporting to you. There’s a whole chain of command for these things, Mayor. We handle our guys. You handle your citizens. Works like a charm.”

  “I’ve been deferring to Kelham my entire life, Major, as did my father before me. When it’s the army’s job, I’m more than happy to let you do it.” Deveraux folded her hands on the table and gave him an icy stare. “But Bonnie Nightingale was a Carter’s Crossing citizen. One most of us knew and liked. Most days, she helped out her cousin Libby. The same Libby who owns the diner where you had lunch.”

  Perry continued to glare. Deveraux kept talking.

  “As far as we know, Bonnie was killed inside the city limits. If one of your guys killed her, we’re not letting the army cover that up. Yes, the killer may be your responsibility. Yes, we’ve got plenty of things to do around here without stepping on the army’s toes.”

  Perry said, “Glad we understand each other.”

  “But know this.” Deveraux ignored his sarcasm. “Until we find out exactly what happened to Bonnie Nightingale, your orders are to cooperate and coordinate with Sheriff Greyson. You got a problem with that, and I’m happy to call that general at the Pentagon who sent you down here and work things out with him directly.”

  Perry looked like he might object. But after a moment, he shook his head. He held up both hands, palms out, in mock surrender. “No, ma’am. No problem at all.”

  “So what do you know about the Nightingale case so far?” Greyson asked.

  “Not much that you don’t already know. We’re working on it, but we’re not making any real progress so far,” Perry said, frowning. “We’re worried. You already know that, too. Everybody still left at Kelham will be shipping out tomorrow. If we don’t get this guy before then, who knows whether we ever will.”

  “And you wan
t us to stay out of the way until you find him? Not a chance.” Deveraux nodded once, firmly, as if she’d made up her mind and that was all that mattered. Which, of course, was nonsense.

  Perry said, “While Hammer’s at Kelham, I’m supposed to be nosing around town. Finding out what I can about Bonnie Nightingale.”

  Kim volunteered the only thing she’d really learned about Nightingale since she arrived in Carter’s Crossing. “She was dating a guy named Brian Jasper. She was in Brannan’s the night she died, waiting for Jasper to show up.”

  All three of them turned to stare at her. Deveraux and Greyson exchanged glances before she asked, “And you know this how?”

  “Walt McKinney told me last night when I was at Brannan’s,” Kim replied.

  Greyson said, “Walt told me that, too. I haven’t been able to confirm she was there.”

  “Jasper would have known where he was supposed to meet Bonnie. There must have been witnesses in the bar that night, too,” Perry said.

  “Jasper might have been avoiding me. Or maybe he was just busy with duties related to the Kelham shutdown,” Greyson replied. “No one else said she was in Brannan’s that night. Bonnie’s friends admitted they were seeing each other. Casually.”

  Deveraux interjected as if Greyson needed defending. “Let’s remember that Bonnie died at midnight on Sunday. Her body wasn’t found until Monday morning. We thought she’d committed suicide until the autopsy came back.”

  Kim nodded. The timing and Greyson’s actions made sense in context. Believing Bonnie had committed suicide, he wouldn’t have felt much urgency to follow up. Until the autopsy changed things.

  Perry cocked his head and said, “Sounds like we need to talk to Jasper. Any idea where we can find him?”

  Greyson replied, “He was involved in that car crash outside of town yesterday.”

  Kim cleared her throat. “I witnessed the crash. One woman died at the scene. Jasper was pretty banged up, but he survived.”

  Greyson said, “He was air-lifted in a Kelham helo to Memphis. He was in pretty bad shape. Not sure whether you can talk to him there or not.”

  “Well, it turns out you can’t interview him,” Kim replied. “When I checked this morning, I was told that he’d died during the night.”

  Greyson’s eyes widened and he shook his head, as if the news wasn’t too surprising, given the severity of Jasper’s injuries.

  “The intel I got was that cause of death was fentanyl overdose,” Kim said quietly. “But that’s all I know. Sorry.”

  A few long seconds of silence passed while the others considered the facts. Everybody had more questions than answers.

  Deveraux turned to look at Greyson. “Tell me about Luke Price. The guy’s always been a jerk and a mean drunk. But he didn’t deserve to die for it. What happened there?”

  “Looks like he crossed the wrong guy. Don’t know who or why yet. But whatever it was got him executed.” Greyson gave her the rundown from the autopsy, including the time of death, along with the gunshot evidence. He left out the part about Kim’s fight with Price a few hours before he was killed. “My guys are out there searching for the murder weapon. We haven’t found it yet. But we’ve—”

  Greyson’s comments were cut short when his phone vibrated, dancing on the table. He picked it up. “Greyson…Yeah…Swell…Okay…”

  His frown deepened as he listened. He swiped his palm over his face and sighed. “Be there soon as I can.”

  “What’s up?” Deveraux asked when he’d disconnected the call.

  “There’s a lot more to talk about. But it’ll have to wait. Right now, I’ve got to go out to the old Gordon farm. The barn’s still ablaze. Around the back, there’s a gaping hole in the building. Firefighters were able to see the interior. Looks like there’s two bodies inside,” Greyson said, standing up and moving toward the door.

  “Two bodies?” Deveraux’s eyes widened. “What the hell is going on, Scott? The last murder we had here was fifteen years ago, and they were all related to Kelham. Now we’ve got four more. We need to get to the bottom of this and fast. We don’t need everybody panicked.”

  Perry sat up straighter in his chair at the mention of Kelham-related homicides. He didn’t ask any questions. Which meant he knew all about the old cases already.

  “That’s all I know at this point, Liz. We’ll figure it out. It’s all got to be related somehow. You know how investigations are. We need a thread we can pull to unravel the whole mess.” Greyson shook his head and squeezed his eyes shut for a moment as if considering whether to say more. “Could be a third body in that barn. They’re not sure.”

  Deveraux gasped. “Why do they think there’s another body?”

  “Because there’s three pickup trucks,” Greyson replied. At the door, he turned and looked at Kim and Perry. “We’re done with your weapons. You can pick them up at the front desk on your way out.”

  Kim stood and pushed her chair under the table. She looked at Deveraux. “We’re still on for dinner tonight?”

  “Yeah. Meet you at Libby’s around seven. If you get held up, call me,” Deveraux said.

  Deveraux’s comment about the timing of the last murders in Carter’s Crossing made Kim uneasy. Fifteen years was a long time to go without a homicide in a town like this. That was the good news.

  The bad news was that fifteen years ago, Jack Reacher had been involved. It seemed unlikely that he’d be back here now, running a killing spree.

  But then, the Boss had sent her here. Which meant he believed there was a good chance Reacher was involved. He could have been the third man out there at that barn.

  “You need some extra hands, Sheriff? You’ve gotta be running short-staffed,” Kim said.

  Greyson nodded. “If you’re willing.”

  As if he’d been invited, Perry said, “Yeah, sure. I’ll come along, too. Nothing better than a raging inferno in the already oppressive heat to get me interested.”

  CHAPTER THIRTY-THREE

  Thursday, May 12

  Carter’s Crossing, Mississippi

  3:15 p.m.

  Kim took the passenger seat, Perry sat in back, Greyson took the wheel. He turned on the lights and sirens after they left the parking lot, headed west of town. He drove fast and well along the twisty roads as familiar to him as the veins in the back of his hand.

  “Tell us about this place where the bodies were found,” Kim said, snugging her seatbelt and pulling the shoulder harness away from her neck to avoid being beheaded. She usually carried an alligator clamp in her pocket to hold some slack in the harness at the retractor, but she’d left it somewhere.

  Greyson kept his gaze on the road, steering around potholes and deep ruts left by the rain. “It’s an old cotton farm, abandoned years ago when textile manufacturing moved out of the county.”

  “What happened to the farm’s owner?” Perry asked from the back seat.

  “Old man Gordon was a middling prosperous farmer, but when he died, none of the kids wanted anything to do with the old place. Farming’s a hard business. And there’s not much money in it anymore,” Greyson replied.

  “So they sold the farm?” Kim asked.

  “They sold the house and the land around it. But they couldn’t find a buyer for the farm itself, so it’s just been sitting out there, abandoned.”

  Perry said, “What about the barn?”

  “That particular barn stands alone in the middle of a fallow field. About ten acres around it, if I had to guess. I haven’t been out there in months. You have to make a point of driving past it. It’s kind of back off the main roads,” Greyson said, slowing to take a right turn at the intersection.

  The road was narrow, twisty, and hadn’t been repaved for a decades, at least. Greyson drove as fast as possible. But he was frequently forced to slow for potholes and other hazards.

  At the next intersection, he turned onto a dirt road, which was rougher still. Kim bounced around on the seat like a sack of feathers.

>   Greyson nodded his head. “There’s the fire.”

  There was a stand of trees off to the right that blocked Kim’s line of sight to the barn itself. But the smoke rising into the sky was black and heavy.

  Around the next bend, the blazing structure came into view.

  As Greyson had said, the barn stood alone in the middle of the field. There were no ponds and certainly no fire hydrants out here. The fire was burning hot and fast. It would likely destroy the barn and everything in it.

  Two fire trucks flanked the burning structure. The firemen attacked the fire with firehoses, but there was no way they’d be able to contain the blaze with the amount of water in those tanks. Best case, they might be able to prevent the barn from igniting the field in which it stood and spreading until it destroyed everything within a ten-mile radius.

  Greyson pulled his SUV to a stop fifty yards from the blaze. He made a three-point turn and pointed the front of the vehicle toward the road. They got out and walked the rest of the way.

  Kim felt the heat pulsing from the fire as she approached. She stopped well short of the firefighters, standing back out of the way. There was nothing she could do to help, and nothing to see until the fire was contained.

  “Wait here. I’ll talk to the crew. See what’s going on,” Greyson said and kept walking toward the barn.

  Perry stood next to Kim. The fire itself was magnificent and hypnotic. If an arsonist was responsible, he might be nearby, admiring the results of his work.

  She glanced around the vicinity, looking for any evidence that the scene had drawn spectators. But the barn was too remote. She saw only the fire crew and the sheriff.

  “What do you think?” Perry asked after a while.

  Kim shook her head. “Hard to say. I’m just wondering which came first.”

  “Which what?”

  “The murders or the fire. Which came first?”

  She looked around again and saw nothing but emptiness as far as her field of vision could see. “If we didn’t know there were pickup trucks inside the barn, the place would have appeared to be unoccupied to anyone who might be driving past.”