The Imposter's Trail (The Sean Kruger Series Book 3)

by J. C. Fields

  Bishop opened the Chevy’s door and stepped down. When the elderly man saw the orange jumpsuit, his eyes grew wide. Raising the Glock, Bishop smiled. “Don’t say a word.”

  ***

  Two and half hours later, Bishop stood outside The Bank of Mack’s Creek and pretended to be talking on a cell phone. His real purpose was determining where the surveillance cameras were located.

  Once he spotted them, he took one of the checks he found at the old man’s house and walked into the bank to a teller.

  “Can I cash a check?”

  The young teller appeared to be a recent high school graduate. She wore thick glasses, was slightly overweight, and in bad need of fashion advice. She looked at the check. “I can, but your check is from another bank. We’ll have to charge a service fee. All I need is a driver’s license or some form of ID.” She smiled. Bishop could see her teeth needed straightening.

  “How much is the service fee?”

  “Five dollars.”

  Shaking his head, he turned and started walking out. “Thank you, but I’ll pass.”

  The old man’s gray Honda was parked several blocks from the bank in a deserted area of the small town, away from buildings and nosey neighbors. In the car, he changed out of the slacks and shirt appropriated from the late Mr. Addison and put on a pair of jeans and a dark brown hoodie purchased at a Walmart store in Camdenton an hour ago.

  He returned to the bank, parked on the side of the building, slipped a ski mask over his head, pulled the hood over it, and walked into the bank. Saying nothing, he raised the Glock taken from the deputy and shot out the surveillance camera on the right side of the bank. Sweeping the gun to the left, he took out the camera on the opposite side. He then spoke in a gravelly voice, “Every one into the store room, and you won’t get hurt.”

  It took less than thirty seconds to get everyone secured. He then went to the teller drawers and grabbed all of the cash he could find not booby trapped with dye packs. It took less than a minute to secure all of the cash he could find quickly. Exiting the bank, he walked casually toward the parked Honda, slipped behind the wheel, and drove west on State Highway W.

  Two hours later, Mr. Addison’s dark gray Honda drove through Kruger’s neighborhood. As Bishop passed the house, he saw two Highway Patrol cars parked in front with two uniformed Highway Patrol officers standing beside them watching the street. Not wanting to attract undue attention, he did not slow and proceeded to leave the neighborhood.

  He found a fast food restaurant several miles from Kruger’s home and stopped to eat while he waited for the Highway Patrol to leave. He made another pass on an adjacent street an hour later. Between two houses, he could see the Highway Patrol cars still parked and the addition of a Ford Transit van parked in the driveway. He stopped briefly, then drove back to Kruger’s street and parked in front of a house several blocks from the Kruger home. Ten minutes later, a dark gray Mustang drove past him. The driver was Sean Kruger.

  Chapter 42

  Christian County, Missouri

  Kruger and JR arrived at Joseph’s property in Christian County just as the sun disappeared behind low clouds on the western horizon. He saw Sandy Knoll’s GMC Denali parked in the circle drive and Joseph’s Range Rover in front of it. Kruger parked the Mustang behind the Denali.

  Joseph’s property was a sprawling parcel of land five miles south of Sparta and a half mile west of Fairview Road. To the east, Fork Bull Creek ran through the front part of the property. Trees were the main feature of the twenty acres behind the house. Access to the home was by a dirt road barely accessible by anything other than an SUV. Kruger’s Mustang struggled.

  Few individuals outside of Joseph’s immediate friends and colleagues knew about the house.

  As he exited the car, Kruger could see Stephanie on the wrap-around front deck holding Kristin’s hand. Kristin was jumping up and down and pointing at her daddy’s car. Kruger marveled at the elegance and beauty of the structure and he never tired of their visits.

  JR walked around the car and stood beside him. “Did you notice the gray Honda Accord following us?”

  Kruger nodded. “The same car was waiting at the end of my street when I left for your place.”

  “I ran the license plate just before we lost cell service a few miles back.”

  “And?”

  “Registered to a Henry Addison.” JR paused for a moment. “Blumley, Missouri.”

  “It’s him. As soon as I get to the house, I’ll use Joseph’s satellite phone to call Allen and tell him.”

  “Not sure I like being without cell service out here.”

  “Relax, Joseph’s got satellite phones and a dedicated T-1 line running underground. It’s faster than your place.”

  “I should have known.” JR chuckled. “I need to find Mia. I’ll see you three inside later.”

  After Kruger climbed the eight steps to the front deck, he picked up Kristin and hugged her. He then kissed his wife and embraced the two women in his life. JR waved at Stephanie just before walking through the front door.

  “I’m glad you’re here,” Stephanie smiled. “I was worried.”

  “No need to be.”

  She nodded but remained in his embrace. “I love this place. I wish we were here under different circumstances.”

  “Me, too.” The hug lasted a few more moments. “Let’s go in.”

  Stephanie took Kruger’s hand and he kept Kristin in his other arm as they walked toward the front door.

  ***

  Darkness was total in this part of Christian County. The lights of the nearest city were far enough away the Milky Way ribbon was clearly visible above the isolated house. Kruger stood on the back deck and stared up at the night sky. Joseph joined him on the deck and handed him a crystal highball glass.

  Kruger accepted the glass and took a sip. “Damn, Joseph. When did you start keeping the good stuff out here?”

  “Since I started spending more time here. The solitude is quite intoxicating.”

  “Sorry to intrude on it.”

  Smiling slightly, Joseph took a sip of the twenty-one-year-old Glenfiddich. “Not a problem. Sandy’s team is out there.” He nodded in the direction of the trees. “They haven’t seen the gray Honda Accord yet.”

  “I spoke to Boone about ten minutes ago. They found the Pratt woman’s Impala in a barn belonging to a Henry Addison. Henry was in his late eighties and a widower. From what neighbors told the Highway Patrol, they saw the Chevy turn down Henry’s driveway sometime during the late morning. The only reason they noticed was because Henry doesn’t get too many visitors anymore.”

  “Bad?”

  “Bishop just broke his neck and put him in a chair with the TV on. If someone looked in, they would think he was napping.”

  All Joseph could do was nod.

  “It has to end, Joseph. His killing has to stop.”

  “How?”

  Kruger took a deep breath. “I haven’t got that far yet.”

  ***

  The call came at midnight. Allen Boone was on the satellite phone and asked to speak to Kruger. Joseph went to get him. Five minutes later, Kruger took the phone.

  “Yeah.”

  “Sorry to wake you, but we may have an issue.”

  Kruger was quiet for several seconds. “May have an issue, or do have an issue?”

  “We found the gray Honda Accord registered to Henry Addison.”

  “Where?”

  Boone took a deep breath and blew it out. “Abandoned.”

  “Again, where?”

  “Two miles from your location.”

  “Damn.”

  “Yeah, that’s our assessment.”

  “Any ideas where he might be?”

  “We’re going door to door along the corridor to Joseph’s property. So far, no luck.”

  “It’s midnight Allen. He’s hiding somewhere. If you find a residence that doesn’t answer, let me know.”

  “So far, we’ve only found o
ne residence with no response.”

  “Where is it?”

  “A mile north of the entrance to Joseph’s property, west side of the highway.”

  “Who lives there?”

  “A family named Owens. Husband and wife, teenage boy and girl, plus a baby.”

  “Do you have the house under observation?”

  “Yes.”

  “Any signs of life?”

  “As you said, it’s midnight. Not too many signs of life anywhere.”

  “Keep me posted.”

  ***

  Three minutes after five the phone rang again. Kruger answered.

  “Yeah.”

  “It’s Boone. There’s a male body on the front lawn of the Owen’s home.”

  “When did it appear?”

  “No one knows. A porch light came on ten minutes ago, the body was already in the lawn. Bishop appeared on the front porch and announced he would kill the husband and a baby if you didn’t appear in front of the house at 8 a.m.”

  “Can they tell who the body is?”

  “No, but it looks like a small male.”

  “One of the teenagers?”

  “Probably.”

  “I’ll be there.”

  ***

  JR held the rifle as Sandy Knoll pointed out several enhancements. JR nodded after the lesson concluded. “If he goes, I need to back him up, Sandy.”

  Knoll gave JR a grim smile. “I’ll be there, too.”

  “He won’t agree, trust me. He’ll think it’s too dangerous.”

  Knoll put his hand on JR’s shoulder. “He won’t know we’re there.”

  ***

  Kruger sat at the breakfast bar in Joseph’s kitchen loading magazines for his Glock with 147 grain 9mm hollow point bullets. Joseph was standing across from him sipping coffee.

  “Want some coffee?” he asked.

  Kruger shook his head.

  “Does Stephanie know where you’re going?”

  “She does. She’s not happy, but understands.”

  “I can’t let you go alone.”

  “You have no choice. If Bishop suspects there’s anyone besides me…”

  “He won’t.”

  “I can’t take that chance, Joseph.” He looked up as he spoke. His eyes were narrow and his brow furrowed. “Too many innocent people have lost their lives because I didn’t put this maniac away a long time ago. It ends this morning. If I don’t…” He paused briefly. “You’ll have to.”

  Joseph did not answer right away. With a frown, he nodded. “I understand.”

  ***

  Kruger parked Joseph’s Range Rover a quarter of a mile from the Owens house on Fairview Road. It was 6:30, and the sky was lightening in the east. The crisp morning air allowed Kruger to see his exhaled breath. He needed time to observe the home before he walked up to the front door. Taking his time, he circled the house keeping within the tree line. He saw no activity as he circled around the back. He stopped behind a large oak fifty feet from the rear door of the modest ranch style home and stood still, just observing.

  Several vehicles were parked on the north side of the house. All were at least ten years old. The house appeared to have been built in the seventies, but looked well maintained. A small swing set could be seen halfway between Kruger’s position and the house. It looked unused. Other than a barbecue grill and a little clutter around the yard, it looked like a typical rural home in Christian County. The family was like most folks around the area, coping with the injustices of life and just trying to survive. Bishop invading their home was just another slap in the face by the gods of chance. He started to move further north when his peripheral vision picked up movement on his right side.

  Moving into the shadows of the early morning, he saw a figure dashing from the house into the woods to his right. More than likely it was Bishop moving into the grove of trees behind the Owens house, preparing to spring a trap. Smiling slightly, Kruger moved deeper into the brush and trees to hide his presence.

  Minutes crept by as Kruger stayed perfectly still. His only thoughts were about Stephanie and staying silent. A rustling of leaves and a snapped tree limb were heard to his right. He did not turn his head, only his eyes tracked in the direction of the sound. The sound of dry leaves crushed under the weight of a man’s step came to his ears as he tracked the movement. In the dim light of early day, Kruger saw a shadowy figure emerge from several small trees five yards to his right. The man stood with his back to Kruger and stared at the house in the clearing.

  Timing his movements to when the man was facing away, Kruger crept forward in the darkness, raising his gun from pointing down to pointing up. His eyes did not deviate from the shadowy figure now only a few feet in front of him.

  As the figure started to move, Kruger lunged forward and grabbed the man’s neck with his left hand. He twisted the body around and shoved him hard against a tall oak tree only a foot from where he stood.

  With his right hand, Kruger pushed his Glock into the soft tissue under the man’s chin and demanded, “Where are they?”

  Bishop’s surprise only lasted a heartbeat. “Who?”

  “The owners of the house.”

  Smiling, the imposter stared at Kruger. “Haven’t got a clue what you’re talking about.”

  Tilting his head to the left and then to the right, Kruger felt the muscles of his neck pop. Pressing Bishop harder against the tree, he placed his index finger inside the trigger guard. “You have five seconds to tell me where they are before I pull this trigger.”

  Chuckling, Bishop stared hard into Kruger’s eyes. “You won’t pull the trigger. You’re like all the others. Weak. You won’t kill me, your conscious won’t let you.”

  Kruger could feel his heart racing, and sweat dripped from his forehead even in the cool morning temperatures. His finger started to apply pressure to the trigger. He stared into Bishop’s cold eyes and took a deep breath to calm himself. Stephanie’s words about not losing his soul echoed in his mind. He released the pressure, but kept his finger on the trigger.

  “Why would my conscious bother me for ridding the earth of a creature such as you, Randy?”

  The smile disappeared, Bishop narrowed his eyes. “You have no idea of who you’re dealing with.”

  “Oh, I know.”

  Bishop suddenly relaxed and he chuckled. “Do you? You think just because you have a PhD in psychology you know who I am?”

  Kruger’s hand started to tremble as he fought to control his anger.

  “You’re trembling, Agent. Something wrong?”

  Continuing to stare at Bishop, Kruger remained quiet.

  “You should have seen your ex-wife beg for her life. It was pathetic…”

  “Ahhhh…” Kruger screamed as he brought his knee up with as much force as possible to strike Bishop’s groin. The air gushed out of the man’s lungs like a deflating balloon, and his eyes rolled up. Kruger released him and watched as Bishop crumbled to the ground gasping for air and holding his genitals.

  Kruger stood above him and kicked the man as hard as he could in the back. Immediately regretting his action, he back off and pulled his cell phone out of his pocket.

  Just as he was ready to push an icon on the phone, he heard a blood curdling scream emanate from the house. Training and instinct caused him to start running toward the sound, but within seconds he stopped. Releasing his mistake, he turned back to where Bishop lay.

  The man was gone.

  Before he could react, an excruciating pain shot through his right arm. He dropped the Glock as he staggered to his left. Another savage blow struck him in the back, and he collapsed against a large oak tree.

  Kruger’s vision blurred as he turned and put his back against the large oak tree. Holding his right arm with his left hand, he looked up.

  Randolph Bishop stood there, a Glock in his hand pointed at Kruger’s head.

  “You should have pulled the trigger when you had the chance, Agent.”

  Kruger star
ed up at Bishop, but remained quiet.

  “I don’t think you appreciate the situation you’re in, do you, Agent Kruger?”

  “I guess I don’t, Randy. What situation am I in?”

  Bishop cocked his head to the left, then the right. Kruger could hear the joints in Bishop’s neck cracking. “Actually, I really haven’t thought about it. Sometimes the goal is just to capture. What to do next is more of an afterthought.”

  Kruger could tell his right arm was broken. He had no use of his right hand and could feel the swelling starting. “You won’t get out of this alive, Bishop. The area is swarming with Highway Patrol and Christian County deputies.”

  “Doesn’t matter really. My objective was to kill you. In my opinion, everything else is meaningless.”

  “I find that hard to believe.”

  Bishop suddenly got a far-away-look in his eyes, and he let the Glock fall to his side. “I’ve known all along I would die in a hail of bullets. Kind of a Bonnie and Clyde sort of thing. Did you see the movie with Warren Beatty and Faye Dunaway?”

  Kruger did not answer the question. He just stared at Bishop.

  “The way Warren Beatty died was very cinematic. Slow motion with bullets ripping through his body. That’s how I imagine my death.”

  Kruger shook his head. “This isn’t a movie, and you’re not Clyde Barrow.”

  Bishop woke from his brief stupor and raised the Glock. “No, I’m not Clyde Barrow. But I’ve done something no one else has done.”

  “What’s that, Randy?”

  Bishop frowned, lowering the Glock again. “I’ve stopped the great Sean Kruger.”

  “You haven’t done shit. All you’ve done is terrorize and murder innocent people. People who did nothing to you.”

  “Well, at least I get to pay you back for all the headaches you’ve given me over the last six years. I had to live in squalor for a year in Bangkok because of you. You owe me.”

  “I owe you nothing.”

  Kruger’s thoughts turned to Stephanie as he stared at Bishop. The Glock was rising slowly. Time stood still as he waited for the bullet that would end his life.