Free Fire - C. J. Box [125]
McCann said, “Sure, I talked under duress. Under the threat of torture from your friend here. After being kidnapped and assaulted.Sorry, my confession won’t stand since I’ll claim I said whatever I had to to save my life. It would be your word against mine.”
He beamed at Joe.
Joe dug his microcassette recorder out of his pocket and held it up.
“Want to bet?” Joe said. “Anybody who hears this tape will hear how proud you are of what you did. None of it sounds forced out of you.”
McCann went white and his mouth sagged open.
“Shut him up,” Joe said, and Nate eagerly dove over the seat with the tape and stretched it across the lawyer’s mouth.
“You’ll get death,” Nate said, smoothing the tape.
“Assuming he lives long enough to get to trial,” Joe said, turning and looking into Clay McCann’s wide, panicked eyes.
And seeing that less than a hundred yards behind them was a park ranger Ford Explorer with wigwag lights flashing, gaining on them by the second, snow flying from the tires in twin plumes of white.
“UH-OH,” JOE SAID.
McCann turned, saw the vehicle, and whimpered. He sagged in the seat to hide. The Explorer closed the gap, fishtailing a littlein the snow as the driver accelerated.
“Who is it?” Nate asked, squinting. “Can you tell?”
“My guess is Langston and Layborn,” Joe said, reaching behindhis back and gripping the Glock, putting it on the seat next to him. “Here we go.”
“I can put a bullet into the grille,” Nate said, “knock them out.” He ran the window down so he could lean outside. The cab of the truck filled with swirling snow.
“Hold it,” Nate said, “there’s only one guy inside.”
Joe concentrated on driving because it was getting harder to see where the road was in a sea of white. He shot a glance in his mirrors. Yes, there was only the driver, and Joe recognized him.
“Don’t shoot,” Joe said. “It’s Ashby.”
“Are you sure?”
“Ashby’s not involved, is he?” Joe called to McCann, who grunted something back.
“What did he say?” Joe asked Nate.
“I think he said no.”
“Let’s pull over and take our chances,” Joe said. “We can reallyuse Ashby’s help if he’ll cooperate. Be ready.”
Joe didn’t dare pull off the road and chance getting stuck in the snow, so he gradually slowed down. The Explorer stayed with him, a few feet behind, until both vehicles were stopped. Because of the way the wind-driven snow moved steadily across the meadow on either side of the road, it seemed to Joe as if they were still moving.
“Cover me,” Joe said, opening his door and jumping down. Snow lashed him in the face.
Ashby was out of the Explorer, his hand perched on his holsteredgun.
Joe held up his hands to show he had no weapon.
“Up against the truck and spread ’em!” Ashby yelled. “And tell your buddy to get out and do the same.”
Ashby was wearing sweats beneath his parka, and had apparentlyjumped out of bed to pursue them.
“Hold it,” Joe said. “I’m on your side.”
Ashby withdrew his gun, held it with both hands in a shooter’s stance, aimed at Joe.
“Del,” Joe said, feeling his belly clutch up, “calm down. We have McCann. We’re using him as bait. Before you try and arrest me or pull that trigger, there’s something you need to listen to. We’ve got new information and you’re not going to like it.”
Ashby wavered, Joe could see it in his eyes.
“Five minutes,” Joe said. “Just listen to McCann’s confession.Then you’ll want to help us out.”
“Confession? Everybody knows what he did.”
“But not why he did it,” Joe said.
“He’ll tell me?”
“He doesn’t need to. I’ve got it on tape.”
Ashby seemed to weigh what Joe said, and while he did he glanced toward the pickup. His face dropped with shock and fear. Joe quickly followed Ashby’s sight line. The muzzle of Nate’s .454 aimed straight at the ranger.
“He’ll blow your head clean off with that,” Joe said.
“Tell him to lower the gun,” Ashby said. “I’ll listen.”
“You can tell him,” Joe said, able to breathe again. “He speaks English, you know.”
When he put Lars’s truck in gear and plowed forward in the untracked snow, Joe had trouble getting the