Deserted

by E. H. Reinhard

  “The three in the lot are deceased. We have two more on the floor inside of the business. Both look deceased. I believe one to be another agent.”

  Philben snapped his head down and grumbled profanities at the ground.

  “See anyone alive inside?” Bill asked.

  “I can’t be certain. I may have seen a flash of someone moving. Yet it could have been my mind playing tricks on me.”

  “No females on the ground inside?” Beth asked.

  “I didn’t see any,” I said. “Just the two men.”

  “We need to get in there,” Gallo said.

  “We need to know if we have any other hostiles in there first,” Scott said. “What was the call you got, Philben? What did it say, exactly?”

  “Shots-fired call from Jenkins. He said he was in the car while Rosatti took fire inside. That’s it,” Philben said. “Then I heard shots come over the radio before any other communication.”

  “He didn’t say who the fire was coming from?” I asked.

  Philben shook his head.

  I heard the sounds of a car motor and gravel at the highway’s shoulder crunching behind me. I looked over to see a pair of sheriff’s cruisers pulling up. Another two were approaching in the distance. One of the cars stopped directly at my back—the other continued past.

  The deputy who stopped behind me lowered his passenger-side window, and I went to it.

  The driver was the same deputy we’d spoken with that morning, who seemed to be leading the local help. “What do you guys need?” he asked.

  I looked back over my shoulder at Philben and the rest of our group. “What do we need from the locals?”

  “The road blocked,” Philben said. “We don’t know if we’ll have gunfire.”

  “Let’s get these plates run.” Beth pointed at the pickup truck next to the black sedan and the SUV on the right side of the building. “We need to know who this truck in the lot belongs to. Was this Kerry Levy or an unrelated incident?”

  I turned back into the deputy’s window and relayed what we needed.

  He made the call over his radio to block the highway.

  Two sheriff’s cruisers positioned themselves sideways in the roadway up ahead.

  The deputy jerked his chin toward the side of the gas station. “The SUV on the side there I have to think belongs to the owner of the establishment. I pass by here a couple times a day. It’s always there. I’ve actually been in this place before. I’ve never seen anyone other than a middle-aged man and an older woman as far as staff. The woman could be the man’s mother.”

  “So two possible friendlies inside,” I said.

  He dipped his head to confirm.

  My mind went to the man, not wearing a suit, that I’d seen on the floor inside. “Have a description of the man who you’d seen working inside?”

  “Bigger guy with dark hair. The couple times I’d seen him, he was wearing work clothes, like for an automotive shop.”

  I turned and tried to get another look at the man on the ground inside. I couldn’t see him from my position on the street, but my best guess was that he was the owner. I stuck my head back into the deputy’s window. “Let’s run the plates from the pickup in the parking lot.”

  I looked over my shoulder at the pickup truck parked near the black sedan and ran the plate off to him. He clicked buttons on his cruiser’s on-board computer and held an index finger up at me to give him a second.

  “That truck belongs to a Benjamin Levy,” the deputy said. “Age twenty-three. Extensive priors.”

  “Have a face to go with that name?” I asked.

  The deputy turned his computer toward me, showing me the driver’s license photo of an early-twenties dark-haired young man. The man in the photo could have been either of the two deceased civilians on the ground.

  “Is that all you need from the computer?” the deputy asked.

  “Should be.”

  He killed the motor on his cruiser and stepped out. He placed his campaign hat on his head, and rounded the front of his car to me. The pair of us walked back to the group.

  “That pickup truck belongs to one of the Levy boys,” I said.

  “Are we thinking Kerry Levy is in the building?” Beth asked.

  “Only one way to find out.” I cupped my hands around my mouth. “Kerry Levy! The building is surrounded. Give yourself up!”

  No gunshots were fired from inside—no movement.

  “Let’s go,” I said.

  Beth, Bill, Scott, and I fanned out from the sides of the cars and walked across the parking lot with rifles aimed at the diner. Gallo, Chris, Philben, and the deputy remained posted at the front, covering the building.

  CHAPTER THIRTY-FOUR

  Kerry

  Kerry had tried to flee in the truck, which wouldn’t crank. She went underneath and beat on the starter with the wrench as she’d heard Ben do, to no avail. Then, she ran back into the diner to rummage the dead FBI agent’s pockets for the keys to his car. By the time she had them in hand and took one step toward the car in the lot, she’d seen the first of multiple fed and sheriff’s department cruisers pull to a stop in front of the business. Kerry ran for the back of the restaurant and looked through the glass of the rear door—nothing but open desert. She’d be spotted running immediately—she was trapped. Her options were to fight or hide.

  Kerry stayed low and went to the front counter, which looked out the diner windows. She popped her head up and quickly back down. She put her back to the counter.

  “Shit,” Kerry mumbled.

  She’d spotted a dark-haired agent kneeling beside Bobby and checking for a pulse. At the street, she’d seen multiple agents with weapons drawn and aimed into the diner.

  Kerry dropped the magazine from the agent’s gun and checked the rounds—ten shots. She knew she wouldn’t be able to shoot herself out of the situation. Her only option was to hide. Kerry’s eyes scanned the drop ceiling of the small kitchen area of the restaurant. Her eyes fixed on a ceiling panel at the back left corner near the walk-in cooler. The white wooden door had a cord hanging down from it. Kerry quickly thought of the shape of the building from the outside. The building wasn’t tall enough for any kind of an attic—the door had to be for roof access. Kerry quickly went to it, snatching a kitchen knife from the edge of the counter along the way. She stood below the door and looked up. She wouldn’t be able to reach the hanging cord without standing on something. Kerry searched the floor and looked under the shelves before finding a milk crate tucked into a corner. Kerry pulled it over, stepped up onto it, clenched the kitchen knife in her teeth, and reached up for the cord. With a yank on the rope, one edge of the door pulled down, exposing a folded ladder. Kerry quickly pulled it down and kicked the crate back into the corner. She stared up at another door at the top of the ladder, with a handle. Kerry stuffed the kitchen knife into her back pocket, scaled the ladder, and twisted the door handle at the top.

  Light poured through the roof hatch. Kerry climbed up onto the roof and pulled the ladder back up. She closed the door at the top of the roof, stayed as low as she could, and looked around at her surroundings. The entire roof was wrapped by a two-foot wall. She couldn’t see the cars parked out front but had a view of the far lane of the highway. Sheriff’s cruisers blocked the highway in the distance in both directions. She went to her belly to stay out of their view—her situation hadn’t improved.

  Kerry glanced around, seeing an air-conditioning unit and a number of stainless-steel exhaust ports jutting up from the rubber-and-pea-gravel roof. Kerry crawled her way to a small four-inch opening in the façade facing the highway, to get a peek out front. She put her face near the opening and had a look. Four cars sat in a line—two black sedans bookended by two marked sheriff’s cruisers. Another sheriff’s cruiser was parked in the highway directly behind the black sedans. Multiple suited men, presumably agents, and a lone female had weapons pointed at the diner. Kerry stared down at Ben’s body lying in the parking lot. Sh
e looked back at the highway to see a dark haired man in a suit leave the window of the sheriff’s car parked in the street. A deputy left that car, and the two men joined the larger group. Kerry watched the man who’d been standing at the sheriff’s car say a few words to the others and then cup his hands around his mouth.

  “Kerry Levy! The building is surrounded. Give yourself up!” the man shouted.

  Kerry pulled her head back from the opening in the façade. “Shit!” There was no way they wouldn’t find her. She pulled the slide on the agent’s pistol and put her face back against the opening. She looked down and estimated the jump. She watched as the group spread out among the cars and advanced on the diner. Kerry brought her knees under herself and crouched at the façade. She pulled the knife from her back pocket and once again clenched it in her teeth.

  CHAPTER THIRTY-FIVE

  We approached the front entry of the diner. Broken glass from the blown-out front windows crunched underfoot. I kept my rifle aimed into the diner as Scott pulled open the front door. We filed into the building. I went left with the barrel of my rifle aimed into the diner. A single row of booths took up the left side. I swung my sights right, toward the front counter with its red vinyl swivel stools and then focused farther back and to the right at the kitchen area behind the counter, spotting no one. Beth knelt beside me at my knee, checking for the pulse of the man in the suit. His suit jacket hung open, exposing an empty shoulder holster. She shook her head. Her check was unnecessary, for the agent had a knife protruding from the front of his throat and had been clearly shot in the head at close range. Over her radio, Beth quietly called in the deceased agent as well as the fact that his service weapon was missing.

  Bill checked on the larger man in the overalls and said a single word, “Deceased.”

  Bill and Scott went off to the right, through the area that connected the diner to the service station. Beth and I went farther into the diner. With another step, my eyes immediately went to the long counter with the swivel stools. Scraps of food covered three plates that were sitting together. Beverages for three accompanied the plates—we only had two deceased males out front.

  I snapped my fingers and pointed at the plates and beverages on the counter. I held up three fingers. Beth confirmed.

  I hit the mic on my radio. “We have settings and half-eaten food for three on the front counter.”

  I received a radio confirmation from Philben outside.

  I pointed toward the back of the dining area leading toward a short hall and pair of restrooms. Beth nodded and headed in that direction. I followed to cover her. We walked the row of booths, checking each as we advanced on the doors at the back. Each booth was clear. We stood at the entryway of the short hall and found another door on the right, opposite the doors for the men’s and women’s restrooms. I pulled the handle on the women’s door as Beth swung in with her rifle.

  “Clear.” Beth came out from the room and pulled the men’s door.

  I swung around the doorway, rifle scanning left to right. A dirty toilet, dirty sink, and stained tile were all I saw.

  “We’re clear,” I said.

  We both put our backs to the wall with the restrooms and took aim on the single doorway opposite us. I got into a low firing position and gave Beth a count of three on my fingers, and she yanked the handle on the door.

  A small supply closet stood before us. Racks with cleaning supplies, extra bathroom tissue, and paper towels filled both sides of the walls. A mop bucket filled with dirty water sat next to the mop and brooms leaning up against the shelving.

  “Clear,” I said.

  Over my radio, I called that the dining area and restrooms were clear and stated that we were moving to clear the waitress and kitchen area.

  Confirmation came back. Scott came over the radio, stating the inside of the service area and behind the counter was clear—they were moving to the garage section.

  Beth and I walked back across the diner toward the long front counter.

  When I led and passed through the small walkthrough area between the counter and hostess station, I immediately saw a woman lying on her back, facing the ceiling against the back side of the counter—making her body not visible from the counter’s other side. The woman appeared in her sixties and was dressed in an apron with a name tag affixed to the front—blood covered the name Marge on the badge. I went to her and found no reason to check for a pulse. The woman had a bullet hole in the center of her forehead. I glanced at where I figured she’d stood when she received the shot, to see small spatters of blood on the off-white wall near a calendar, phone, and stack of coffee cups.

  I looked back down at the deceased woman and noticed a smear in the edge of the woman’s blood pool and also what looked like two heel marks moving farther toward the kitchen. The size of the footprints was too small to be a man’s. We continued that direction past a pair of microwaves at eye level above a stainless-steel prep table on our right. I paused, looking down at a bloody hand smear at the edge of the table then down at the floor, seeing an additional bloody heel mark. I pointed at both, making sure Beth was aware. She pointed at her eyes and quickly nodded that she saw the same.

  I hit my radio mic. “Deceased female behind the diner counter—sixties. We have signs that someone passed through the kitchen area toward the back.” I snugged the stock of my rifle into my shoulder.

  We continued on. The bloody heel prints on the floor disappeared. I glanced at the left wall, seeing nothing more than shelving filled with canned goods. The kitchen area ended with a walk-in cooler on our left and a back door leading outside, straight ahead. I went to the back door immediately, seeing blood on the silver door handle. I looked through the small rectangular window. A uniformed deputy was in a crouched position fifty yards into the desert with a weapon aimed at the back of the building. Beyond him was nothing but open desert with knee-high shrubs. The hills and mountains in the distance had to be a good couple miles away.

  She couldn’t have ran to them before we arrived on scene.

  The thought that she could be lying somewhere out there crossed my mind. I backed off from the door and jerked my chin at the walk-in cooler.

  Beth stepped toward it and reached out for the handle. I took a crouched firing position. The door made a clack as the latch came free, and Beth swung it open toward herself. I saw no one within, just metal shelving filled with buckets, frozen bags of food, and produce. I stepped right for a view inside the left part of the cooler—nothing but more of the same. Beth called a clear for the right side of the cooler, which I couldn’t see. She moved around the door and entered the ten-foot-by-ten-foot metal box of a cooler, and she checked up and down with the barrel of her rifle.

  The radio in my ear came alive with the sound of Bill’s voice. “Service side is clear. No signs that anything out of the ordinary took place over here. No blood, no people. Exiting the building.”

  Beth walked from inside the cooler and I saw her press the button for her mic. “Diner is clear. We have blood on the back-door handle. She may have fled out of the back before we arrived on scene. Let’s get some people combing the area. Air support might be a necessity here.”

  Philben confirmed and said he was going to call in the request.

  Beth swung the cooler door closed and took a step past me, back toward the front of the diner. She pointed up and looked back at me over her shoulder. “We’re going to need to search via air.”

  I instinctively looked up.

  I stood in place, focused on the cord hanging down from a wooden panel in the drop ceiling. Beth took another few steps before stopping and turning back toward me when I didn’t give her a response and she saw me fixated on something. I took a single step to the right, staring up at the cord. I spotted a bit of red—blood.

  My hand shot to my radio mic, and I hit the button. “She’s on the roo—”

  The sentence didn’t get out of my mouth before I heard gunshots—a group of four then multiples in su
ccession.

  “Shit!” I said.

  Beth and I ran toward the front of the diner.

  “Agents taking fire from the roof of the building! Two down!” came through my earbud. I couldn’t tell whom the call had come from.

  I got to the front door to see the sedans we’d arrived in with blown-out windows. I saw the feet of someone in a suit down between the rear of the car we’d come in and the sheriff’s cruiser behind it. Gallo, Chris, and Philben were nowhere in sight—neither was the deputy who’d been at the cars with them. Beth and I went outside, turning our rifles toward the roof. I couldn’t see anyone. I pointed for Beth to go left. I went right, toward the service station. The deputy that had stayed with our group at the cars was standing at the corner near the single garage door, his service weapon aimed up.

  Taking another two steps farther into the parking lot gave me a better view at the roofline. The top couple feet of roof appeared to be a brick façade. Small rectangular cutouts in the brick gave Kerry Levy, if that’s who was on the roof, an ideal fighting position. She’d be able to use the cutouts as gun ports while being fairly well protected from our return fire. I put my rifle’s sights on the nearest cutout, being sure to watch every other piece of roofline I could see in my peripheral vision.

  “The two agents that came from the service station are at the back of the building,” the deputy said. “The girl fired down at us. Two of the agents at the cars were hit. The thinner agent took a round to his shoulder.”

  “The other?” I didn’t look over, keeping my eye to my rifle’s sights.

  The deputy said nothing.

  “The other?” I asked again.

  “Sorry. I thought I saw some movement up there. The bald-headed guy took a round to the—”

  I heard a single shot, and my head snapped to the right. The deputy dropped to where the blacktop met the dirt at the building’s edge. A small plume of smoke hung in the air near the last brick cutout at the corner of the building, the one nearest him. I brought my sights to the opening and squeezed off three groups of three shots. I walked sideways quickly, keeping my weapon on the area. I saw a flash of color through the hole in the façade and fired a group of six rounds. Pieces of brick and dust from mortar flew from the top of the building with each of my shots. From the corner of my left eye, I saw another flash of color in the cutout nearest me. I yanked my rifle to my left and looked up at a woman leaping over the top of the building.