Cold Wind - C. J. Box [50]
Which wasn’t all that far from the truth, he thought. Although from his standpoint, he simply wanted to ask Bud if he’d really been the informant. And why.
Joe hesitated for a second before shutting the door. He considered greeting the sheriff on the way down with a story about trying to find his ex-father-in-law. But why, if it wasn’t related to the case? Joe was the lousiest liar he knew, and he just couldn’t do it.
At that instant, Sollis opened the door downstairs and Joe started to ease Bud’s door closed. The hinges moaned again, but he hoped the sound was drowned out by Sollis himself, who was telling the sheriff, “Damned if it wasn’t open. Now where’s his place? Top of the stairs?”
Feeling sweat bead beneath his hatband, Joe eased the door shut and prayed the dead latch would spring back and catch again in the switch plate without a sound. He heard a dull click as it locked, and he let out a long ragged breath and stepped back.
He looked around Bud’s apartment. Would he try and hide? Did the sheriff have permission to enter? A key?
The voices of the sheriff and deputy rose as they climbed the stairs. Once they made the landing, Joe recognized McLanahan’s labored breathing.
“Well, knock, damn it,” the sheriff said between gulps of air.
Joe waited, facing the door.
Sollis pounded on the door so hard Joe’s heart raced. He wondered if the sheer force of the deputy’s blows would open the door again.
“Bud Longbrake?” Sollis shouted. “You in there? This is Deputy Sollis and Sheriff McLanahan from the Twelve Sleep County Sheriff’s Department. The county attorney wants you to move to a safe place until you testify.”
Joe tried to keep his breath calm and to stay quiet. Did they have a warrant to enter? If so, he was doomed.
“Too much information,” McLanahan admonished his employee in a low growl. “Just get him to open the damn door.”
More fierce pounding. It rattled the empty bottles on the coffee table. Joe watched the doorknob assembly, just waiting for it to give way.
“Bud, open the door,” Sollis boomed. Then, after a beat, his voice not as direct, “I don’t think he’s in there, boss.”
“Then where the hell is he?”
“How would I know?”
“Jesus—if we lost him . . .”
“I could force it,” Sollis said. “This lock don’t look like much. We could say we heard something inside and thought he might be injured or something.”
“That would give us PC,” McLanahan said, but by the tone of his voice he wasn’t encouraging Sollis to do it. Yet.
“Naw,” McLanahan said after a few seconds. “If we damage the door and he isn’t in there, it’ll look bad. We can be back here with a warrant in an hour and open it up. But I think you’re right—he isn’t home.”
“Then where is he?” Sollis asked.
“You dope,” McLanahan said. “I just asked you that question. You think I’ve got an answer between a minute ago and now?”
“No, boss.”
“Holy hell in a handbasket.”
Joe took a deep relieved breath and let it out through his nose.
“Tell you what,” McLanahan said. “You stay here in case he shows up. I’ll call the county attorney and get the warrant going and bring it back.”
Joe thought it interesting that Bud had left without informing the sheriff.
The sheriff’s boots descended the stairs. After a beat, the sheriff called up to his deputy, “We’ve got to find that son-of-a-bitch, and fast. Without him, we’re up shit creek without a paddle.”
“Ten-four,” Sollis said.
Joe waited ten minutes. He thought Sollis might disobey orders or let his curiosity get the best of him and force the door open himself. If he did . . . Joe didn’t know what the hell he’d do if he did. Remarkably, Sollis stayed out. Joe could hear the deputy sigh with boredom, then tunelessly