Code 61 - Donald Harstad [151]
I was beginning to think the kid was taking a course in how to irritate a superior.
“Well, for starters, your friend 'Slasher' Peale left Lake Geneva shortly before I did. There's a good chance he's headed this way.”
Silence.
“Then, there's the information we got that says he's really, really pissed at some of the folks in the house, up there.” I shivered. “Got any coffee?”
He fished a thermos out of the space between the armrest and the steel safety plate of the plastic cage. “Here.”
“Thanks. I've been up since seven, myself.” I unscrewed the top, and Sally reached her hand through the sliding section of the cage, and handed me a Styrofoam cup out of the backseat. I poured the steaming coffee gingerly, sat the cup on the dash, and screwed the thermos cap back in place. “Who else we got available tonight?”
“Ten is the late car. He's on at midnight. That's it. Other than him, it's just me. And Sally.”
“Damn,” I said. “That means we stay here all night.”
“What?”
“Yep. All night.” I turned in the seat. “How about you, kid?” I asked Sally. “When you gotta be back at work?”
“Day off tomorrow,” she said.
“Okay,” I said, taking a sip of coffee from the cup. “Old coffee,” I said. I sniffed. “What's that smell?”
“Smell?” asked Sally.
“Yeah, that weird smell.”
“I don't smell anything,” she said.
“You better tell him,” said Borman. He was smiling.
Sally took a deep breath. “It's garlic.”
“What?”
“You know, like you put on bread. Garlic.” She reached down to her utility belt, undid the little nylon pouch that we kept exam gloves in, and produced a small plastic bag with a small garlic medallion in it.
“You're kidding.”
“Houseman, you can never be too safe,” she said, replacing the bag. “Take it from me.”
I sighed. “Okay, mother. Just keep it sealed up, okay?”
“You bet.” She looked down, replacing the bag. “Want to see my ciuciffx?”
I laughed. “No. Honest to God … ”
“No different than a ballistic vest,” she said. “Insurance is insurance.”
That reminded me of the matters at hand. “Now, can I ask you guys a question?” I looked at them both.
“Sure,” said Borman.
“What are you doing down here?”
“Watching the place. Just like Lamar said.”
I sighed, mostly for effect. “No. When you're all the way down here, all you can see is the road. You aren't supposed to be watching the road. You're supposed to be watching the house.”
“We tried that,” he said. “Kevin came out and told us to get out of the driveway. He's got that right, it's private property.”
“The woods up there aren't private property, they belong to the state.”
“But there's no road into the woods.” He sounded exasperated.
“What kind of rain gear you got in here?” I asked.
“Hooded raincoat, like yours. Gortex overalls. Boots. But I'm not hiking up into those woods in the rain.”
I made an effort to sound thoroughly disgusted. I think it worked. “No, you're not. Our suspect is probably in a blue '96 Honda four-door, no plates. I have no idea whether or not he's armed, so assume he is. Got that?”
“Yeah.”
“Okay, I'm going to put my rain gear on, go into the woods, to where I can see the house. You stay down here, and keep alert. I'll call on my walkie if I see anything, and you do the same.” I started to open the door.
“Wait,” said Sally. “We've got the night-vision scope with us.”
Our department had purchased some Russian Army surplus night vision gear in 1998. Right out of a commercial catalogue. It was inexpensive, and adequate, except the battery didn't last more than four hours. We had one battery, and it took a good four hours to recharge. The recharger, naturally, was in the oiffce.
“I'll take it,” I said. “How much time you got left on the battery?”
“A good three hours.” Sally sounded apologetic. “We used 'em for a few minutes after we got here.”
I would have done the same thing, but didn't say so. Instead, “I'll only use 'em when I think I need to.”
“I really think we need two in the woods, and one down here,” she said. “Much safer down here. Can