Code 61 - Donald Harstad [83]
“Well, the new Houseman. Hardly recognize you.”
I got in the driver's seat, and started to buckle my seat belt.
“My,” she said, “I hope we don't get you dirty.” As I threw her a look of disdain, she continued with, “Maybe you should have eaten first.”
“Now, come on. They're just wash pants.”
“You're too modest, Houseman,” she said. “You're creepin' up on presentable on me.”
“You know,” I said, as we headed out for lunch, “I'd think the group up at the Mansion would want to go to the wake, too.”
“It could be tough for 'em,” said Hester. “Hard to fit in, I'd think.”
I grinned. “Then I'll be in good company. Really, though, it's not going to give us much time to do interviews.”
“Give me a little while on this,” she said, “but we may just have enough to get selective.”
We were barely in the car when lunch was canceled.
“Three, Comm?” came crackling over the radio.
“Three … ”
“Ten-twenty-five with the search party up north. Eighty-one says they have something for you.”
Fantastic! “Ten-four, Comm. We'll be ten-seventy-six,” I said, turning left instead of right at the bridge, and heading north. “ETA about fifteen.”
“Ten-four. They advise at the bottom of the bluff, on the highway end. They'll be in plain sight.”
“Ten-four.” I was really, really tempted to ask if they had somebody in custody, but I was aware that the media were probably monitoring our radio traffic even then.
“You think they got him?” asked Hester.
“I'd think so,” I said. “But maybe not.”
“Hard to think why else they'd call us up,” she said.
“If I'm gonna miss lunch,” I replied, turning onto the main northbound highway, “they damned well better have a warm body for us.”
They did, as it turned out.
“Eighty-one, Three,” I said into my mike, as I got within a mile of the bluff.
“Three, go.”
“I'm a bit less than a mile from you.”
“Ten-four, got you in sight. Pull in here,” he said, and I saw a figure in blue jeans and a dark green jacket step onto the highway on the bluff side. There was a sheriff's car parked in a level area just off the roadway, where the county kept a gravel pile for use on the roads. The figure waved, and I recognized Old Knockle. As I got closer, I saw there was a blue Chevy parked ahead of the squad car, and as I pulled in, I saw that it had Wisconsin plates.
As we got out of the car, I said, “Don't you ever sleep?”
“Only got an hour to go. Hello, Hester.”
“Right,” I said. “What you got?”
“Well, we were up the road there, me and Tillman, and we were comin' in to relieve the other guys, and I noticed this car, here. Ran the plates, and they're expired. To a woman named Gunderson, over by Madison.”
“Okay?” I was awfully eager to see what else he had, but I didn't want to rush him.
“Well, while Tillman was checkin' under the seats,” he said, provoking a wince from me, “I looked up there.” He pointed to the bluff. “There was a fellah up there lookin' back at me.”
“Recognize him?”
He pointed to his glasses. “Surprised I even saw him, Carl.”
“What'd he look like?”
“He's just a man in a gray sweatshirt with a hood, I think. Not much more. Anyway, I yell at him, and he just stares at me. I holler 'Who're you?' and he just motions like he wants me to go away.”
I hate to admit it, but my heart rate was elevating.
“Where'd he go?”
“Well, he sort of disappeared, Carl. But I think he went back toward the top of the bluff.”
“And where's Tillman?” My heart sank. Tillman was about twenty-five or so, and had been a reserve for about three months. A great kid, but I was pretty sure he didn't fully appreciate some aspects of the job. Like risks, for example.
“He took up the hill after him,” said Knockle. “Told me to stay here, and call for help.”
I looked up the bluff. There was a ravine that was full of big rocks and old, fallen trees. But it looked passable,