CHAPTER FORTY-THREE
Mayor Buckley leaned back in his leather office chair, fighting the urge to swear at Bill King, who was standing across his desk. The wealthy business owner was always a handful, but today’s encounter had pushed the aggravation level to an all-time high.
Buckley needed to find his calm and take the high road, not letting the slender man goad him into overreacting. “I get what you’re saying, Bill, but you really need to take it up with the Sheriff.”
King gasped, shaking his head. His tone turned harsh. “I can’t talk to that man. He always seems to go out of his way to blow me off. I think he gets off on it. Why you picked him as the new sheriff is beyond me.”
“I thought Apollo assigned a couple of deputies to help you out yesterday. Something about rescuing trapped miners.”
King hesitated before he spoke again, his lips thin. “He did.”
“Well then, I don’t know about you, but that doesn’t sound like he’s blowing you off to me.”
King’s eyes rolled, then he shook his head. “That was official business. Lives were at stake, so he had to respond. He didn’t have a choice.”
“Exactly. It was official business. Which is why the issues with your wife need to be handled by the courts. Or child services. Not me.”
“Ex-wife.”
“Yes, ex-wife. My apologies. But I say again, family matters are not in my purview.”
“I get that, Mayor. But it still doesn’t change the fact that I need to know where she is. She’s completely unstable and she has my son.”
“Being a father myself, I’m sympathetic to your situation. Now, with that said, you have to realize that the entire town is facing a major crisis, so we’ve got bigger issues to deal with at the moment.”
“What could be more important than the wellbeing of my little boy?”
“That’s not what I meant, Bill.”
“Okay, then. Explain it to me.”
“I meant we’ve got the wellbeing of the entire town to consider, not just you, and not just your son. With the power still out and equipment down across town, we’re sitting on a powder keg that’s ready to erupt at any moment. And I can’t let that happen.”
“But I pay more in taxes than anyone else.”
“That may be true, but—”
“No, it is true. Nobody else even comes close. You know as well as I do how many people my family’s business employs. If it weren’t for the Silver King Mine and all the revenue it generates, this town would have dried up and blown away a long time ago. I don’t think it’s unreasonable to expect a little extra consideration now and then from the Mayor and his new errand boy. Certainly, you can bend the rules a bit here, Seth, especially since my son’s life might be at stake.”
Buckley sighed, realizing this conversation was never going to end. King wouldn’t back off until he got what he wanted. Buckley needed to defuse the situation.
Before he could blink again, a new idea entered his mind—one he should’ve thought of when the conversation first started. “Look, it just so happens that I sent someone out to the Trail Dust Riding Stables earlier on another matter. We needed to—”
“What does Atwater’s business have to do with this?” King said, interrupting.
“What I was trying to say was that’s where I think Stephanie and your son stayed last night.”
“At Franklin’s place?”
“Yes.”
“How do you know that, exactly?”
“Your ex-wife left a note in the Sheriff’s office. With directions.”
King threw up his hands, looking even more pissed than before. “Damn it. I knew it. The note was for that new guy, Bunker. Am I right?”
“Yes, as a matter of fact. But I’m sure it’s not what you think.”
“Trust me. It is. You don’t know her like I do. The minute I questioned her involvement with that lowlife, it sent her flying into his arms. She’ll do anything to aggravate me.”
Before the Mayor could respond, a quick knock came at his office door, then it flung open. In walked Sheriff Apollo and Rusty.
A flood of relief washed over the Mayor’s bones. Prefect timing. He stood up to greet the new arrivals. “Gentleman, we were just talking about you.”
“Did you find my wife and son?” King snapped at Apollo.
The Sheriff stopped walking, looking a little confused. So did Rusty, leading Buckley to hold up his hands at both of them. He needed to keep them quiet until he could subtly read them into the confrontation brewing in his office. He didn’t want them exacerbating the situation.
Buckley cleared his throat. “Mr. King and I were just discussing a matter involving his ex-wife and son. I told him we think they might have stayed at Franklin Atwater’s place last night.”
The Sheriff nodded, his eyes indicating he understood Buckley’s delicate lead-in.
His grandson, though, still looked lost so he continued. “Rusty, I’d like you to meet Bill King. Owner of the Silver King Mine.”
“Nice to meet you,” Rusty said, putting out his hand for a shake.
Bill King didn’t respond. Nor did he move.
Buckley kept his eyes on Rusty. “I just told Mr. King that you took a ride out to the stables to check on a few things for me. Isn’t that correct?”
“Yes, sir. I did.”
“Well? Were they there? My wife and son?” King asked, his tone charged with hostility.
Rusty looked at the Mayor with a blank expression on his face.
“Come on, kid. Spit it out already. We don’t have all day,” King added.
Buckley sensed Rusty’s reluctance and knew the kid was looking for guidance. “Go ahead, Rusty. Tell us what you found out. Just give it to us straight. Don’t hold back a single detail.”
“Well, sir, when I arrived, I found the store’s front door just hanging open. I went inside, but the place was empty. Of people, I mean. I waited around for a bit, but nobody showed. So I checked in the back to see if Mr. Atwater was in his office. You know, working at his desk or something. But he wasn’t. It looked—”
“Is that all you have?” King asked, not letting Rusty finish his report.
“Please, Bill. Let him finish,” Buckley said.
Rusty cleared his throat, his tone unsure. “It looked like someone had completely trashed his office. Stuff was everywhere. Like they were looking for something. Plus, I saw some of the horses running loose outside.”
“Loose?” Apollo asked, finally joining the discussion. “That doesn’t sound like Franklin to me. He’s a stickler for order and proficiency, ever since his days in the Army.”
Rusty nodded. “Something must’ve happened. Something bad, I think. I even checked the main house, but there was no sign of anyone. It’s like everyone just disappeared.”
The Sheriff ran his hands across the back of his neck. “I thought for sure that’s where everyone was. What the hell is going on?”
Buckley stepped out from behind his desk and put a hand on Apollo’s shoulder. “So I take it Daisy wasn’t at her trailer?”
“No sir. After my knocks went unanswered, I used her spare key to go inside. I found her bed made, and there were no dishes in the sink. When I checked the coffee maker, it was ice cold and spotless.”
“Coffee maker?” Buckley asked, not understanding the relevance.
“Daisy told me she always downs a full pot first thing. It’s the only way she can get moving in the morning.”
“Maybe she cleaned up; did you ever think of that?” King said, his words frothing with contempt.
“Yes, of course. But that wasn’t all I found. There was no coffee filter in the trash and the gas heater’s thermostat was turned way down. Plus, her cat Vonda wouldn’t stop meowing until I fed her.”
“Wait a minute,” King snarled. “The power’s out. That would’ve have worked anyway.”
“Normally I’d agree but she has an old Onan generator she inherited from her father after he p
assed. It’s from the early 60’s and looks like an old tractor, but it still works. No electronics, either. She has a lot of trouble with the grid out there in the winter, so I know she keeps that beast fueled and ready.”
“Onan, huh?” King said in a less contentious tone, his eyes tight. “Do you happen to know what model?”
“No, not off the top of my head,” Apollo said, pausing before he spoke again. “So, after careful consideration and review of the facts, I came to the only conclusion that made sense. Especially after I found the cat’s water bowl empty. Daisy never made it back last night with Bunker.”
“Bunker? Seriously?” King asked, resuming his nasty mood.
“Yes,” Buckley answered. “We sent the two of them to Tuttle’s place last night.”
King flailed his arms. “Jesus, Buckley! How much more do you need to hear? We’ve obviously got a situation here and it is clearly official business. Something that both the Sheriff’s Department and the Mayor’s Office need to address. I’ll bet my last dollar Bunker is at the center of all of it.”
CHAPTER FORTY-FOUR
Bunker snapped awake when someone threw cold water on his face. It took a second to remember where he was. When he did, he realized he must have passed out after the last round of electrocution.
He glanced around the room, but little had changed. He was still naked and bound vertically to the metal bed frame, with his feet soaking in water buckets. The car batteries were two feet away, wired together with electrical cables that ended with a pair of wide-mouth clamps attached to the frame.
There was no way to know how long he’d been out, but the pools of blood on the floor were more distinct than before. The electrical burns across his back and legs were intense, but he fought back the urge to wince or show any sign of discomfort. He didn’t want to give these men the satisfaction.
“Status report?” The words came from a short man entering the room through the only door.
“So far, he hasn’t said anything. Not a word,” answered the man who’d been serving up the torture.
“Sounds like we have ourselves a hero,” the new arrival said.
Bunker studied the man who’d just called him a hero. His neatly-trimmed hair was combed from left to right and peppered with even amounts of gray and black along the sides. His wide nose looked pushed in at the top, like a bulldog, and his eyes were set close together, black as coal.
The man’s thin lips and narrow shoulders matched the rest of his slender profile, but his most noticeable feature was the pitted scars across his cheeks. They were heavy and deep, much like the collection of wrinkles around his hawk-like eyes.
Bunker could sense the respect the man carried, leading him to believe he was the commander of this group. His black slacks and long-sleeved shirt were pressed and his dress shoes shined, looking as though he’d just come from Casual Friday at some lawyer’s office.
“Bring in one of the females. He’ll talk,” the commander said.
“Which one?” the torturer asked.
“Doesn’t matter. Just make it quick.”
“Yes, sir,” the torturer answered, leaving the room in a hurry.
The commander turned to one of the other men standing nearby, then pointed at Bunker with authority. “Untie him. I want him on his knees for this. Make sure he’s secure.”
The man farthest to the right stepped forward and began to untie Bunker, while the remaining two guards aimed their rifles at him.
Once Bunker was free, his vision blurred for a moment before his legs gave out. He landed on his kneecaps with a heavy thud. He ignored the discomfort, turning his thoughts to the other hostages—women and children. They needed him, but he decided not to fight back. Not yet. His strength was only just beginning to recover. If he was lucky, he’d get one crack at these men, and this wasn’t it.
“Looks like Marco did his job well,” the commander said. “Nobody tenderizes meat like he does.”
Someone pulled Bunker’s hands together behind his back, then secured them with rope around his wrists.
The commander grabbed the back of Bunker’s head and yanked, breathing heavy and close. “I can see you take great pride in keeping yourself in shape. And in your artwork. Impressive. But none of that will help you now. I’d strongly suggest you tell me what I want to know before my patience runs out.”
Bunker didn’t answer, keeping his eyes on the commander’s as his chest swelled with adrenaline. Whether the rush was out of anger or pain, he couldn’t tell; both were thick inside. Either way, he could feel his strength building with each passing second.
The commander twisted Bunker’s hair in his hands, turning Bunker’s neck to study the blowtorch scars. When he was done, he yanked on the back of Bunker’s hair, nearly ripping the strands out by their roots. “Who are you?”
The pain sent Bunker’s breath out of control, making him clench his teeth as air and spittle shot out in rapid bursts. He wanted to kill this man. Yet he said nothing.
“You are one stubborn son of a bitch, I’ll give you that. It’s obvious you’ve had extensive training in counter-interrogation, but you’ll break. Guys like you always do. Just need to find the proper motivation.”
Right then, the door swung open. In came Daisy, still in her uniform and with her hands behind her back. The torturer, Marco, had a grip on her, keeping her under control.
She’d been gagged and blindfolded, her shirt ripped along one of the shoulder seams. Plus, her hair was a confused mess, with clumps hanging about her face and neck, making it appear she’d put up a good fight. Or just gotten out of bed.
“Looks like motivation just arrived,” the commander said. He let go of Bunker, shoving his head to the side before turning his wrath to Daisy.
“On your knees,” the commander told her.
She didn’t move, yelling something into the gag. The words were muffled, but her defiance was clear.
The commander spun to the side with his arm drawn back, then unleashed his fist, landing a sharp blow to her gut.
Daisy gasped, doubling over from the force. She dropped to her knees, her chest heaving to gather oxygen.
Bunker’s heart screamed at him to do something, but his logic killed the idea. They’d shoot her if he made his move at the wrong time. Patience was needed.
The commander grabbed Daisy by the hair and snapped her head back to expose her face. “Do not defy me again, woman. Next time, I use my knife.”
She didn’t respond, still fighting for air in short, choppy bursts.
He let go of Daisy and took the blindfold off.
Her watery eyes found their way to Bunker. When they shot wide, he showed her a raised eyebrow and gave her a slight head shake, hoping she’d know to stay calm.
Daisy’s eyes softened and her breathing slowed, even though it was clear she was in considerable pain.
Bunker flashed a stern look at her, then, with only his eyes, directed her attention toward the commander, who was now moving around behind her.
She nodded gently as the man pulled his knife and bent down, putting the blade under her chin.
“Now that we all know each other, it’s time to wrap this up,” the commander said, tugging down on her hands.
He aimed the tip of his knife at Bunker before he spoke to Daisy again. “Let’s hope your boyfriend over there decides to cooperate. Otherwise, I’m afraid your beauty will be a thing of the past.”
She said something into the gag, but again the words were garbled.
The commander brought the knife back to her throat, then told Bunker, “Tell me what I want to know, or I start carving.”
Daisy struggled against his grip, but the man only smiled, keeping her secure and under his control. “She’s a feisty one. Just the way I like them.” He moved the tip of the blade from her throat to her right eye, only an inch away. “I think I’ll start with her eyes.”
Daisy’s face went into all-out fright mode, her eyes as big as quarters.
&
nbsp; Bunker couldn’t hold his silence any longer. “Okay. Okay. I’ll tell you what you want to know.”
The commander withdrew the dagger and was about to say something when a powerful explosion rocked the building. The blast was close, stinging Bunker’s ears and shaking everything around him, including his teeth.
The man in charge flinched, then motioned to his men. “Find out what’s going on!” Two of the guards scrambled to the door and disappeared outside, leaving one armed man inside.
Bunker made sure Daisy was looking at him before he yelled, “Now, Daisy!” He sprang to his feet, hoping she’d take action.
Daisy reacted in an instant, snapping her head back to catch the commander in the groin. The man doubled over, groaning, his hands covering his crotch.
Bunker charged the remaining guard with his chest leading the way, ramming him into the wall with a thud. The man fell hard and twisted over to his side.
Daisy swung her feet around and took out the commander’s legs, sending him to the floor in a heap. She wrapped her thighs around his neck to pin him in a leg vise.
Bunker kicked the guard lying at his feet, landing a blow to his face. The back of the man’s skull smashed into the wall behind. A moment later, the guard’s eyes closed and his hands fell to the side, releasing the AR-10 rifle. Bunker kicked it a couple of feet away, in case the man regained consciousness.
Another explosion went off outside, this time farther away. Gunfire erupted next, distant like the blast. It started as controlled bursts of automatic fire, then a pair of powerful single blasts followed. A shotgun, Bunker figured, landing a few more kicks to the guard’s face as insurance.
He went to help Daisy, but she appeared to have everything under control. The commander’s face was now a deep red color, with the veins along his temples raised and distinct. His tongue was hanging out like a thirsty dog, gurgling sounds emanating from his throat.
She continued applying pressure to his neck with her thighs, while the commander threw wild fists behind his head. She ducked most of the punches, though one did manage to catch the side of her head.
Bunker: Boxed Set (Books 1, 2, and 3) Page 27