Home Invasion - J. A. Johnstone [90]
Cochrum motioned for the reporter and the cameraman to follow him and strode toward the police car as Alex got out. He wore his usual arrogant smirk as he raised his voice to be heard over the still-turning blades of the helicopter and called, “Chief Bonner! Good morning!”
“There’s nothing good about it,” Alex snapped.
“I suppose you must have heard about Pete McNamara’s death?”
Alex jerked her head in a curt nod. “I have.”
The blond reporter, who managed to look perky and attractive even this early on a Sunday morning, said into her microphone, “And how do you feel about Mr. McNamara passing away, Chief Bonner?” She thrust the mike toward Alex.
Reining in her temper, Alex said, “How do you think I feel? I’m mourning a friend. Pete McNamara was a good man.”
“According to the courts, he was an unstable, gun-wielding vigilante.”
Alex took a step toward the reporter. She couldn’t stop herself.
Smoothly, Cochrum got between them. “This isn’t really a legal matter anymore,” he said. “The courts have ruled, and the case will be disposed of properly in due time. Right now, I don’t think we should intrude on the good people of Home.”
“Then what are you doing here?” Alex asked tightly.
“When I heard about Mr. McNamara’s passing, I knew I had to fly right over here from San Antonio and convey my client’s sympathy to Mr. McNamara’s friends and neighbors. Mr. Navarre bears no personal ill will toward anyone involved in the tragedy that crippled him and killed his good friend.”
Alex wanted to ram those words back down Cochrum’s throat, but she knew if she did, the video would be viral worldwide in less than an hour.
Cochrum went on, “If there’s anything I can do to help, perhaps with the funeral arrangements …”
“You’d like that, wouldn’t you?” Alex said. “Put on a big show for the cameras.”
Cochrum shook his head. “I don’t know what you’re talking about, Chief. If you doubt my sincerity, then that’s your problem, not mine.”
“Why don’t you get back in that chopper and go back to San Antonio?” Alex suggested. “We don’t want you here.”
Cochrum shrugged and shook his head. “This is still a free country, Chief.”
“Did the school district give you permission for that thing to land here?” Alex nodded toward the helicopter.
“Well, no, there wasn’t time to obtain permission, and this is really the best place in town to land—”
“Then you’re trespassing,” Alex cut in. “Either get out, or I’ll arrest you.”
Cochrum’s face hardened as he stared at her through the dark sunglasses. “You can’t do that.”
“Try me,” Alex said.
She didn’t know how the standoff would end. In a way, Cochrum would probably relish being arrested. That would get him even more publicity.
The rumble of a truck engine intruded on her thoughts and made her turn her head to look along the highway. A couple of unmarked trucks rolled past, evidently on their way through town. Truck traffic through Home wasn’t an uncommon sight, but the early morning hour and the fact that these vehicles were unmarked struck Alex as odd. She heard their brakes engage and watched curiously as the two trucks slowed to a stop in the middle of the crossroads.
“What in the world?” she muttered as she started toward her car. Her instincts as a law enforcement officer had kicked in, and for the moment she had forgotten about Clayton Cochrum, the reporter, and the cameraman.
“What is it?” Cochrum called from behind her. “Is there some sort of trouble, Chief?”
She ignored him and got in the car. She had left the engine running, so all she had to do was put it in gear and head for the center of town.
She wasn’t the only one who had noticed the trucks’ arrival, she saw as she approached. Jerry Houston was already on hand, pulling up next to the lead truck in his patrol car. He got out and approached the cab, lifting a hand in greeting to the driver. The cab door opened.
At first Alex’s brain couldn’t comprehend what her eyes were seeing. Jerry flew backwards like he was a puppet attached to strings jerked by a puppeteer. He landed across