by David Stout
“You did? So did I.”
“What’d you find?”
“I don’t know everything, but I know Jamie Brokaw was here, right here, just before he was stuck in the ground. The tank he was buried in—it was outfitted right here. Look at that curved metal there, and those torches.”
“Jesus, Shafer. The two guys who ran this garage.”
“Yes, but not just them. Someone else was involved. Took over the whole thing, maybe, and then killed these two.”
“Jesus.”
“Listen, my friend Fran was here. He was here, Raines. The night he died.”
“My God. The guy who cracked up his car?”
“No. He didn’t crack it up. He was run off the road. Then he was soaked with beer, wetted down as he was lying in the wreckage. Something had to be done with him, because he was here. He saw!”
“How do you know?”
“Because right out there, at the base of the steps, there’s what’s left of a schnapps bottle. Schnapps was Fran’s favorite starter drink. I found out he bought schnapps and beer at the liquor store right up the road. And today, just now, I put myself in his place. I could do that, because I knew him so long, knew how he must have felt that night, when he was fighting with his demons.…”
“Shafer, you’re more than a sly dog, but we’ve got to get out of here.…”
“And the sad thing, or the terrible thing, is that he beat his demons that night. And look over there, frozen in the ice on the floor. That kid’s bear? They gave that to Jamie Brokaw to play with. I know they did. It happened here. Right here!”
“We’ve got to get out of here, Shafer. You especially. Away from this place, away from this town. I know that Pickert has been talking to the chief today, and I know the chief’s been following you. The chief saw you in the phone booth just now—I’m sure of it.”
“Pickert and the chief?”
“That’s why I called the FBI, Shafer. Neither one of us is safe around here.”
“The chief’s connected with the guys who ran this garage?”
“He was, sure. The Santoses and the chief’s brother, they all belonged to the same metalworkers’ union a while back. Until these two Santos fumble-fucks went into business on their own. I told you, all the people in this town know one another.”
“Carmine Luna?”
“Let’s get out of here, Shafer.” Raines took Will by the arm and steered him outside. “Luna was one of Pickert’s snitches. They washed each other’s hands. Don’t you see?”
“Sure. When Fran had to be framed, there was someone in the hospital all set to do it. They weren’t going to let him live afterward, I’ll bet, because of all he knew. But his body was so weak, they didn’t have to do anything.”
Will followed Raines down the steps, over to Will’s car. Will’s teeth were chattering, from excitement and the cold. “Raines, you’ve got to get away, too.”
“Don’t worry about me. I’ve still got a uniform. It’s tough to kill a good cop. But you won’t be safe until you’re back on the expressway, where it’s all state police.”
“God Almighty,” Will said, opening his trunk to toss in the jack handle. “Where the hell is the FBI?”
“Screw ’em. Just get moving, Shafer. I’m going to be right behind you until you’re on the entrance ramp. Then I’ll be in touch. Maybe your brilliant FBI buddy will get here in time to help.”
Will started to say something in defense of Graham, but nothing came out. Graham wasn’t here.
Just as Will was opening his car door, he saw Raines looking up the driveway toward the road. Then Raines’s face went hard. “Shafer! No time to go out the front way. Forget your car.”
“What?”
“They’re here, Shafer! Here! The chief and … Christ!”
Will watched as though hypnotized as Raines opened his car door and pulled out a high-powered rifle equipped with sling and telescopic sight. In one smooth motion, Raines had the weapon draped across his back and was running toward the outskirts of the woods behind the garage.
“Run fast, Shafer! Follow me. I know what I’m doing.”
Will obeyed, half-stumbling at first on rubbery legs through the junk-strewn grass around the garage, then to the brush just beyond.
“Raines!” The voice of Chief Robert Howe, bellowing from the driveway along the side of the building.
The boom of a shotgun—there was no mistaking it—from the driveway and the clatter of the pellets through the brush and branches.
“Here, Shafer. Here.”
Will was within the protection of the brush now, and a few stumbling steps beyond that within the trees’ embrace. He could see Raines up ahead of him, running faster than Will could run but holding back for him, waiting.
“Raines!” The chief’s voice farther back, followed by the metallic click-clack sound of a fresh cartridge going into the shotgun. But Will knew he and Raines had a chance now—a good chance!—because while a shotgun would blast through a man’s flesh at short range it was all but useless half a football field away.
With every step, heedless of the thorns and vines and branches that slapped at his cheeks and forehead and gripped his ankles, Will was gaining on Raines. He was almost even with him now. Raines had a rifle, a much longer-range weapon than a shotgun. They were going to make it, going to make it.
“You hit?” Raines said as Will drew even.
“No. No. No.”
“You’re sure?”
“Yes. Yes.”
“Stick to me like glue, Shafer. I didn’t come this far to let you get killed. To get killed myself, for that matter.”
“Do you have any plan?”
“Just to stay cool and get out of this. We’re both in better shape than that lard-ass and his partner.”
“Who’s his partner?”
“Not sure who, besides Pickert.”
Farther back now, right behind the garage, the sound of car doors and trunks opening and closing. Will heard two voices. No, three.
“Don’t stop to look back yet, Shafer. We’re putting distance between us and them. And I’m a better shot, if it comes to that.”
“The chief had a shotgun. Are there any rifles with them?”
“Don’t know. Doesn’t matter. I can shoot better than any of those assholes.”
Will found Raines’s bravado reassuring. Then he had a dark thought. “You know where you’re going? I mean, can they take a shortcut somewhere and be in front of us?”
“I’m not going to let that happen, Shafer. Trust me. I know these woods better than that. If it comes down to it, I’ll make the straightest line I can toward the expressway. It’s quite a trek, but we can do it.”
Will settled into a fast jog behind Raines. He forced himself to breathe as evenly and deeply as he could, knowing that if he had to push himself beyond what he had ever had to do before in his life, his chest would last longer that way.
Raines bounded easily through the woods, despite the added weight of the rifle over his shoulder. Yes, he was in shape, in great shape. He moved like a running machine, half-glancing over his shoulder every twenty yards or so.
“I’m right with you,” Will said.
Raines seemed to nod. At one point, he made a fist of encouragement.
They were into the deep woods now. The air was cold, but the ground still had some sponge in it. Several birds flew from under an evergreen.
“Here, Shafer.” Raines led him into a protected gulley. “Kneel down and breathe deep through your mouth.”
“I’m okay. I am.” But this was worse than a neighborhood jog.
“You’re doing fine, Shafer, but I’m a little younger than you. Just rest easy. I have a good view of back where we came from. We’ll take a minute to get fresh. Then put more distance between us.”
Will was in no mood to argue. “What will they do if they catch us?”
“They know what they have to do if they catch us. That’s not going to happen.” Almost affectionately, R
aines slapped the stock of his rifle. Then he brought it to his shoulder—“Relax, Shafer, I’m just looking”—and trained it back the way they had come. At least Will thought it was the way they had come; he could no longer be sure.
“Ready, Shafer?”
“I’m ready to do whatever it takes.” To stay alive, Will thought.
“Good. Come on.” Raines put his strong hand on Will’s shoulder. “Like I said, they know I’m a better shot—”
Dogs.
Raines and Will heard the sounds at the same time. Absurdly, Will thought, German shepherds can run faster than I can. He felt sick to his stomach, especially when he saw Raines’s eyes behind his amber shooting glasses. Will saw fear in the eyes.
“Shafer, you’ve got to keep up with me. Those dogs will tear us apart.”
“No. I won’t let that happen to me. I won’t.”
“Just keep up, then. Stay right with me.”
“As long as I can breathe, I’m with you. All right?”
“Let’s go, then. It doesn’t matter how fast the dogs can run, because they’re still attached to their handlers. I’m still better than any goddamn cop around here.”
I hope so, Will thought. I really do hope so.
Raines led the way in a half trot into deeper woods, where decades-old evergreens shaded the forest floor. Will lost track of time and distance. Now and then, he heard dogs behind them, but they did not seem to be gaining. He knew there was a long time to go before dark. Was that good or not? Would night offer safety? Probably, assuming that Raines knew his way around. And he certainly seemed to.
When they rested again, Will realized he was hungry as well as tired. The one time in his life he could have used a big breakfast for the energy, he’d settled for doughnuts and coffee.…
Will looked around him. He couldn’t be sure, but the terrain seemed like the area where the hermit had lived and died, where Jamie Brokaw had been buried. “Are we close to where the boy was in the ground?”
“Relatively speaking. Couple, few miles.”
“Does it make any difference to us what county we’re in? It might make a difference. I mean, they can’t just cross into another county and kill us, can they?”
Raines didn’t answer.
Far off in the distance, Will heard a helicopter. For long, long seconds, the sound hovered at the very edge of hearing. Raines seemed not to be aware of it. Then the sound was gone.
“Raines, listen. You’re better at this than I am, but it makes sense to me to get into another county as fast as we can. It has to make them think twice, if we can do that.”
“It makes no difference to me.”
“No?”
“No.”
Will didn’t understand, but he was as much an amateur as the kidnappers had been. And they were dead. The Santos brothers were dead. Now, Will had to trust Raines to keep him alive. “Jerry Graham, where are you when I need you?”
“What?”
“My FBI friend. If he got here, we’d be safe.”
Raines snorted. “The FBI screwed up, Shafer. They screwed up the case. Believe me.”
“I guess. I guess they never put any stock in what I found out about Carmine Luna.”
“The FBI figures that’s local police business, Shafer. Dealing with scum like that. Fag scum.”
“You knew Luna, too?”
“Not really.”
Not really? No, that couldn’t be right. What had Raines said about Luna: “You saw how he lived.” Hadn’t Raines said that? Will was sure he had, as though Raines had seen Luna’s place.
A terrible, chill calm settled over Will. He’d been able to imagine that the Long Creek police chief and maybe someone else in the department could have been involved in the kidnapping. He’d just never thought of Raines.
Now he remembered the Kansas City kidnapping case from his boyhood, the case he’d read about in the Long Creek Eagle morgue. Son of a wealthy car dealer, kidnapped and killed, thrown in a lime pit.
And a crooked cop assigned to deliver the ransom money had stolen some of it. Terrible evil followed by terrible greed.
And here I stand, Will thought, a naïve fool. Standing under a tree with Raines, listening for the dogs and the good guys. I’m just his insurance, as long as I’m alive.
The dogs were closer.
Will was afraid to look Raines in the eye, afraid of what he would see behind the amber shooting glasses.
Raines hadn’t known Luna, but he talked as if he’d been to his apartment. No doubt he had. And Raines had never hunted or fished with the other Long Creek cops, but he knew these woods very well. Of course, he did.
The ransom notes had been mailed from all over the place. A cop—not the chief, but a cop—could routinely drive all over the place and mail stuff wherever he wanted to.
It was Raines who’d always seemed to be there, right on the edge of the case, willing to help, to share information. No! Not to share, but to find out what Will knew, about Fran’s death, and what kind of investigator Jerry Graham was.
Raines had been able to lift the ransom money, because he’d known all along how the drop would be made, about the surveillance, when the money could be lifted safely. Raines, with the big plans about leaving Long Creek and never coming back. Always the helpful Raines.
No, it didn’t matter to Raines whether he and Will got into another county or not. Just a few minutes before, he’d said, “It makes no difference to me.”
Raines had followed him to the garage, wanting to see what Will had found out. And now Raines knew that even Will Shafer couldn’t be naïve forever, that even Will Shafer could add two and two. Eventually, anyhow.
I’m his insurance, Will reminded himself. As long as I’m alive, I’m his insurance.
Helicopter sounds, closer than before. People were hunting for them. Raines heard it. And the dogs, closer now.
“Get down low, Shafer. Stay down.” Raines’s voice was cold and hard.
Will obeyed, lying flat against the cold leaves, able to feel his own heartbeat, closing his eyes against the terror. Could it be that Raines didn’t yet know that Will had figured it out?
Will could think of nothing to do, nothing. He kept his eyes closed, listening to his heart over the sounds of the copters and the dogs. Maybe if he could just stay calm, stay calm. He knew he didn’t deserve the chance after being such a fool, didn’t deserve the chance after what Fran and Jamie and the hermit had suffered. But he wanted the chance, anyhow. Our Father…
“Shafer! Get up.”
Who art in heaven…
“You okay, Shafer? We gotta move.…”
Will felt Raines’s hand on his arm, lifting him up.
“Stay with me, Shafer. I need—”
Will could not resist looking into Raines’s eyes, and he saw the glint of recognition behind the amber glasses. And then Will saw the flash of fury, and panic, behind the glasses. For just an instant, as he stood chest-to-chest with Raines, Will had the advantage of surprise.
What happened next was heaven-sent. Raines started to grab Will, who stepped back. Then Raines was caught in indecision: He could either grab Will physically and try to wrestle him to the ground or he could cover Will with his rifle. But Raines had the rifle slung over his shoulder, and in his anxiety he made a clumsy motion instead of what should have been a simple deft one.
Still looking right at Will, Raines tried to get the rifle into position. But his footing wasn’t right, and in his awkwardness he arched his back as the sling caught on his coat for just a moment, and in that moment Will stepped forward and pushed as hard as he could on Raines’s chest. And Raines’s feet slipped on the leaves and went out from under him, and Will could see the surprise in the eyes behind the amber glasses as Raines took a hard fall on his back.
The fall was made harder by the rifle getting in the way. Will rejoiced in the whoof! that came out of Raines’s chest, a sound Will heard as he bolted and ran back the way they had come, or at least
the way he thought they had come—it was so hard to tell in the woods. Not that it mattered, because Will was running, running.…
“Shafer? Shafer!”
The voice told Will that Raines would have trouble getting his wind back. The sound of branches snapping back there and Raines’s curses meant he was even having trouble getting back on his feet. Will wasn’t sure where he was going, but he was running, running.…
“If you don’t stop, I’ll shoot you in the leg, Shafer. Then you’ll stop.…”
Will was running, running, even as he heard the explosion from Raines’s deer rifle. He would not stop, would not stop, no matter what. He would not let Raines get him.
Another shot from behind, and this time Will heard a bullet go splat into the ground, but way off to one side. Raines didn’t really know where he was shooting.
“Shafer! If you don’t come with me, I’ll shoot you so your wife won’t love you anymore. I can do that, Shafer. I’m that good a shot. Trust me.”
Thorns, vines, leaves, twigs went slap, slap, slap at Will’s face. He didn’t care; he would let all the skin on his face and his hands be ripped away if he could keep on running—
Rock, log, it didn’t matter. For an instant, Will felt something hard and slippery under his left foot before he went down like a large, slow stag. His right arm came under him, but instead of breaking his fall it came up into his chest, knocking all the breath out of him and filling him with a blinding pain.
“Shafer? Don’t move, Shafer.”
Will tried to crawl. He moaned in pain, then tried not to moan. Raines was coming up on him.
“If you come with me, we’ll both walk out of these woods, Shafer. I promise.”
Will got to his knees, supported himself on his good arm, crawled a few yards. He was dizzy-sick from nausea but he would not pass out, would not. He thought he heard dogs, shouts of men, helicopters. Or were they just the sounds a man hears before he faints? He crawled.
“I know I’m close, Shafer. They’re no match for me, and neither are you. I can leave you so your wife will love you, or I can … you know. Let me find you.”
Will got his good arm around a tree, managed to stand up. He didn’t think Raines could see him yet, and he didn’t hear footsteps. He did hear the dogs and the helicopters and the shouts; there was no mistaking them.