Brad peered out the peephole.
“Are you okay?”
“Something isn’t right.” Brad followed the hall to the living room, his eyes roving from right to left over the leather chair against one wall, the leather couch against the other, and the coffee table in between. Criminal Justice textbooks were open on the coffee table, with notebooks and pens scattered over the surface.
He strode over to the window and drew the shades. He swung back, his eyes darting around the room. “Anyone else here?”
“No.” Annie wrapped her arms across her blue sweatshirt. “You’re acting strange.”
“I’ve got an enormous problem.”
Annie pointed to the dark leather couch. “Sit. Tell me.”
Brad peeled off his beanie and slipped out of the parka. He glanced at his Roper boots. “Oops, sorry.”
“Not important.” Annie sat on the couch and slid her sweatpants covered legs under her.
Brad sat on the edge of the couch next to her. He told her about the meeting in Archer’s office and the radio report.
“That’s bullshit.” Annie pulled her hair back and into a ponytail. “Maybe Archer has to play this legit. But not the other guys. What are they thinking?” Annie reached for the telephone. “I’ll call Briscoe. He’ll straighten this out.”
“No.” Brad put his hand over hers and stared, inches from her face. “No one … no one can know I’m here—they’d have to turn me in. As it is, I’m putting you in danger. But someone needs to know this is bullshit. I need to clear my name.”
“Just talk to Archer.” Annie grabbed his hands and stared, pleading. “He’ll understand.”
“Listen.” Brad shook his head and gripped her hands tight. “If I’m arrested, call Maggie’s father, Judge Ethan Gray, and Jenni Blighe. But right now, I need you to do a few things.”
As Annie drove up the lane to the farmhouse, the motion light came on. Lobo bounded around the corner of the garage and jumped at the window of her car. She got out and grabbed Lobo. They wrestled as he tried to lick her face. She shivered. The sun was setting, and the temperature was already dropping. It would be another minus twenty-five Fahrenheit night.
Lobo raced to the back of the car and sniffed the trunk. He crawled under the back of the vehicle, slid out and sniffed the trunk again.
His head swiveled to the right and stared down the lane. His hackles shot up and he barked. He jumped on his front paws, barking continuously, backing toward Annie. Then he circled her, barking in all directions.
Annie heard branches rustle. Coyote? Wolf? Bear?
Lobo was frantic, barking out into the night. Flashlights shone on her from all sides. “Police! On your knees. On your knees! Now.”
Annie knelt.
“Hands on your head. Don’t move.”
Lobo stood in front of Annie, teeth bared.
“Call the dog off,” a deep voice ordered.
“Screw you,” she shouted. “Identify yourself.”
A large man stepped toward her out of the bright lights and the deep voice spoke again. “Call the dog off.”
“Who are you?” She stared into the glare of several flashlights.
“Royal Canadian Mounted Police. Last chance.” The deep voice was confident. “Call the dog off or I shoot.”
The fuckin’ Mounties? Emergency Response Team. Their version of SWAT. Of course. Brad lived outside the city. “I don’t know if he’ll listen.”
“Last chance.”
“Lobo, off,” Annie pleaded. She had to get Lobo to settle. She knew they’d shoot. “Please, Lobo, off.”
Lobo stopped barking and sat in front of her. Several figures in dark blue tactical gear came out of the darkness. A loop on a pole was slipped over Lobo’s head. He spun and barked and tried to bite the loop around his neck. The pole was twisted, and Lobo flopped onto his side. A black hood was placed over his head. Lobo fought vigorously, but the pole kept him at a distance from the Mounties.
“What the hell do you want?” Annie shouted as she stood.
“Stay on the ground,” a deep voice said. “Where’s Coulter?”
“I have no clue.”
The cop, dressed in dark gray tactical gear with sergeant’s stripes lowered his flashlight, rifle at his side, and stared down at Annie. “His car is at your apartment.”
“He came by to visit.” Annie shrugged. “He does that regularly.”
“Where is he now?”
“He’s not there?” Annie grinned at the Mountie.
“No. Only his car.” He knelt in front of Annie. “Stop jerking me around.”
“I’m answering your questions.” She glanced behind her at the small farmhouse. “Did you check the house already?”
“Yeah. He’ll need a new door.”
The Mountie stood and waved to two tactical cops dressed in gray standing behind him. He nodded toward the car. “Check the trunk. Pry it open if you have to.”
“Hey, don’t wreck my car,” Annie pleaded. “Take the keys. They’re in my purse on the front seat.”
She heard the driver’s door open, then the trunk pop. “He’s not here, boss.”
“Shit,” the Mountie sergeant said. “Cuff her.”
A Mountie yanked Annie’s arms behind her back and slapped on handcuffs. He lifted her by her arms and shoved her toward the house. She stepped over the damaged front door and destroyed frame.
“Brad will be pissed.”
“Like I care.” The Mountie shoved her into a chair. Two men wearing black balaclavas stood before her—RCMP ERT patches on their shoulders.
“I don’t know you,” Annie said. “But you know who I am. And understand that Brad will be madder about what you did to Lobo than to me. I wouldn’t want to be in your boots.”
“I’m shitting bricks,” the Mountie closest said.
“Enough trash talk,” the sergeant growled. “Where’s Coulter?”
“I don’t know.” Annie sighed. “I don’t know any other way to say it. Why?”
“He’s wanted for murder.”
Brad watched from the door of the ancient barn. There was nothing he could do. ERT were doing their job, but he still wanted to kick their asses—although Annie was giving them a nasty time. He heard her call Lobo off. The German shepherd yelped, then barked again, but it was muffled.
Fuckers.
He peeked around the garage—they’d put a hood over Lobo’s head and had him on a tether pole.
I’ll kill them.
Brad had hoped he’d have more time.
Archer had called the RCMP and ERT had arrived in record time.
Brad’s jaw clenched and his pulse pounded in his temples as they handcuffed Annie and led her into the house. There was nothing he could do.
ERT fanned out around the house. They hadn’t started clearing the dilapidated out-buildings.
The RCMP had made two mistakes. First, they didn’t bring K9. That meant they were hunting in the dark. Second, they had no clue what the lay of the land was. They didn’t have time before they got here. That was all the advantage he’d need.
He rolled the old truck out of the barn. It wasn’t registered, the plates were expired, but it was a vehicle they couldn’t link to him. This was no time to play hide and seek until they left. He needed to leave. Annie could hold her own.
He picked his broken tactical knife and slid it into a parka pocket. With one hand on the steering wheel and his shoulder on the doorframe, he pushed the truck toward the hill. Once the truck had momentum, he jumped in and steered as best he could without power. The truck rolled down the hill in darkness to a road about a half-mile from his house. He started the engine but kept the lights off. As he drove away from his farm, he saw two black SUVs blocking the lane. No one was going in or out that way. Rookies. The farm had dozens of exits. Not that Brad could make a high-speed, but tonight the truck would do.
As clouds crossed the moon, the road was illuminated, but Brad was well out of sight. He gl
anced at the passenger seat and wished he had Lobo with him.
Chapter Thirty-Three
Archer stood over his desk, phone to his ear. He listened for a minute, slammed the receiver down, and leaned on his desk. “Damn.”
Jackson wasn’t sure if he should ask what happened.
Archer took a deep breath and sat. “Coulter eluded us.” He lowered his head and slid his fingers through his hair.
Jackson, the man, was glad Coulter had escaped. The cop, not so sure. “How’d that happen, Chief?”
Archer’s head rose, and he glanced at Jackson and paused before answering. “I’m sure you’re heartbroken. When your guys got to Annie’s apartment building, Coulter’s car was there, but he wasn’t. Then Annie showed up at the farm. Lobo was curious about the trunk of her car. RCMP ERT popped the trunk, but he wasn’t there either. I don’t suppose you’ve got any ideas of where he’d go.”
Jackson shrugged. “Those would be the first two places I’d check. Maybe the cemetery.”
“I’ve got Griffin heading there with a few guys,” Archer said. “But if Coulter’s car is at Annie’s, then how is he getting around?”
“Beats me.”
Archer stood and paced the room. “This is a nightmare. How did the press get a hold of this so fast? We’re in a pile of shit.”
“For which part? That Coulter may be the killer or that we don’t have a clue where he is?”
Archer groaned and sat. He opened his desk drawer and pulled out a bottle of Scotch. He poured two glasses and slid one over to Jackson.
“I’m confused,” Jackson said. “Are we drinking, hoping we find Coulter or celebrating that he’s out there solving the case?”
Archer glared at Jackson and downed his drink.
Griffin followed K9 through the darkening cemetery. He had police cruisers blocking all the exits. Behind him, six uniformed officers followed. They stopped, and he glanced at the map again, then pointed. K9 led the way.
They came to a fork in the road, and Griffin split the team in half. Each team worked their way opposite the row where Maggie’s grave lay. On Griffin’s command, they lit their flashlights and yelled, “Police.”
The shouts echoed throughout the cemetery, but no one answered. Griffin glanced to the K9 dog straining at his leash.
Griffin stepped next to the handler. “So?”
“He has Coulter’s scent from that disgusting T-shirt you brought, and he tracked it here. But there are no new footprints. The heavy snow of the last few hours covered any tracks. I’d say if Coulter was here, it was before the heavy snow. My dog will turn around and track right back to our cars. Coulter has been and gone.”
“Shit.” Griffin absently rubbed his neck. This was the second fucking time he’d been searching for Coulter. The guy was a pain in the ass. Coulter could frame it however he wants, he’s running and that makes him guilty. He’s made us all look stupid. Griffin grimaced and felt his stomach churn. He hated bad cops.
Chapter Thirty-Four
The CFCN News van stopped close to the ditch at the lane to Brad’s farm. From here, the farmhouse couldn’t be seen because of a thick stand of trees, darkness, low clouds, and the heavy falling snow. A dark SUV blocked the lane. A Mountie in gray tactical gear including balaclava strode over. “No one gets in.”
“On whose orders?” Sadie asked.
“RCMP business. This farm is off limits.”
Sadie lifted her mic higher. “What’s happening?”
“Ma’am, please leave.”
“I’m here to see Brad Coulter.”
He leaned into the window, his rifle pressing against the van, and pushed the microphone down. “I don’t care if you’re here to confess to the Pope. You don’t get in.”
“He invited me.”
“How pleasant. You two will have to have tea another day.” He stepped back and waved his hand down the road. “Move along.”
Sadie nodded to her cameraman. They drove down the road about a half-mile and parked. The cameraman set up his tripod and attached the camera.
“Get some video of the RCMP at the entrance.” Sadie slid out of the van and straightened her parka. She used the truck’s side mirror to check her makeup, add red lipstick, and adjusted her black pom beanie. She did a mic check with the station, then faced the camera. The cameraman nodded, then the bright lights lit up the road.
“This is Sadie Andrus, CFCN News. I am reporting from Detective Brad Coulter’s farmhouse just outside the city limits. Earlier, I received information from an unidentified police source that Coulter was wanted by his own police department for murder, and that a city-wide manhunt was underway.”
The screen switched to black SUVs blocking the lane into Brad’s house with the audio of Sadie’s confrontation with the RCMP.
“We were confronted by members of the RCMP ERT in full tactical gear, including balaclavas. They denied us entry to the house and refused to tell us what was happening. They hustled us away from the scene.”
The video switched to Sadie, with members of ERT a hundred yards behind her.
The door to Archer’s office burst open. His secretary pointed to the TV.
“You need to turn on the evening news, sir. Channel 4.”
Archer set his drink on the table, then switched on the TV.
“This is Sadie Andrus, CFCN News. I am reporting from Detective Brad Coulter’s farmhouse just outside the city limits. Earlier, I received information from an unidentified police source that Coulter was wanted by his own police department for murder, and that a city-wide manhunt was underway.”
The screen switched to black SUVs blocking the lane into Brad’s house with the audio of Sadie’s confrontation with the RCMP.
“We were confronted by members of the RCMP ERT in full tactical gear, including balaclavas. They denied us entry to the house and refused to tell us what was happening. They hustled us away from the scene.”
The video switched to Sadie, with members of ERT a hundred yards behind her.
Jackson stood and stared at the TV. “This is not good.”
Archer grabbed his phone and dialed. “Dispatch. Contact RCMP dispatch and order the ERT at Coulter’s house to shut down that TV broadcast. Now!”
The camera focused on the outline of a house in the darkness. A single light illuminated the yard. Several interior lights were on.
The scene swung from the yard back to Sadie. “We have attempted to talk to the occupants of the house, especially Detective Coulter, but ERT has blocked our entry. When questioned, they would not give us a reason. Could it be that Coulter is being held inside and interrogated by his own department?” Andrus glanced to her right. “I have little time. I have several ERT members running toward me.”
The camera swung past Andrus and three ERT sprinted toward her.
“Shut that camera off or you’ll be arrested,” the lead Mountie yelled.
Sadie’s voice broadcast over the image of the sprinting Mounties. “Since they could not arrest Coulter, they will be satisfied with arresting us.” The cops were within ten feet.
The camera rolled along the ground.
Sadie shouted. “Get your hands off me. That hurts. You’re breaking my arm.”
Then both the video and audio went dead, and the face of the news anchor came on the screen.
“It seems we have lost the video and audio feed from Sadie Andrus,” the anchor said. “We’ll keep you posted on this developing story and the arrest of our news staff.”
Archer stared at the screen, his eyes wide. “No. No. No. Idiots.”
“You told them to shut it down,” Jackson said.
“Not like that.” Archer leaned on his desk and stared at the TV. “What were they thinking?”
“Maybe you should have sent out TSU.”
“Don’t you fucking start.” Archer glared at Jackson. “Make sure the RCMP bring them here.”
The door burst open again and Archer’s secretary stepped in. “Sorry, again.
Chief Hamilton is on the line for you.”
Chapter Thirty-Five
Brad swung the truck onto the highway and headed back to the lights of the city. The county roads crew had done an admirable job plowing the highway, but the huge flakes of snow were accumulating quickly. The truck plowed through the snow fine, but when the back tires hit the ice underneath, he fought to keep the truck under control as the back end slipped from side to side.
At the city limits, the roads were far worse. The road crews hadn’t made it this far. After a few slides toward the ditch, Brad stopped and locked the four-wheel hubs. He slid back into the truck. In four-wheel drive the vehicle slipped less. He wished he’d tossed three or four hay bales in the back for added weight.
Instinct had sent him toward the city, but now he didn’t know where to go. Heading to the home of anyone he knew was out. There were some recent advances in tracking credit card use, but he’d never paid attention when the fraud detectives discussed that. It just didn’t interest him. Brad decided he needed to listen more and talk less. Best case was he had one night where he could use his card. In the morning, there was no doubt they would flag his bank account and credit cards.
He drove through downtown to the east end and stopped at the Army Surplus store. One stop shopping. He grabbed winter boots, several pairs of socks and gloves, a navy wool beanie, heavy lined gray and black camouflage pants and parka. He wandered around the store and selected a few additional items—one tactical knife, a four-D-cell metal Maglite, a penlight, and sunglasses.
The clerk eyed the purchases. “You heading to the arctic, buddy?”
Brad laughed. “Feels like it. Have you been outside tonight?”
“Can’t say I have.”
“Well, it’s nasty. I’m a farmer, and I need to check the cattle in weather like this. I don’t want to be discovered dead in the morning next to a frozen cow.”
The clerk nodded. “Makes sense. This is the best stuff there is. You need anything else?”
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