Known Dead_ A Novel - Donald Harstad [75]
Even though they weren’t quite sure what the hell was going on, Al and George were up to the occasion. They acted more like considerate tour guides than cops, as they ushered Herman Stritch and family back toward the line of officers. I did notice that only Mrs. Stritch looked down as they passed Rumsford’s body. I reached down and picked up my gun, and puffed up my cheeks, and blew out a whole lungful of air. Neither Hester nor I said a word. I inserted the single round back into the magazine, and quietly pushed it into the gun. I grinned at Hester, and she smiled back.
Our little moment of joy was interrupted by the sound of the back door slamming. Other forces were leaving the fort. Well, he’d said he was only responsible for his family. Hopefully, they’d be gathered up by the officers on the hill, but I wasn’t going to hold my breath.
‘‘Three, Comm?’’ I said into my walkie-talkie.
‘‘Three?’’
‘‘Comm, we have possible suspects leaving the farmhouse, probably going west. Notify the officers on the back side of the property.’’ I said this as Hester and I headed around the corner of the house. By the time I got to the backyard, Hester was ahead of me, and ducking. As she hit the ground, I ducked too, more or less out of respect for her judgment. I just caught a glimpse of a camouflaged man disappearing into the corn, and a tall figure in a camouflage battle dress, complete with turkey netting over his face, swinging what looked for the world like an FN/FAL rifle toward us.
‘‘Ten-four, Three.’’
Ten-four, hell, I thought, as I hit the ground.
He didn’t fire. I mean, it wasn’t like he had to or anything. He’d just stopped us with a gesture.
He disappeared into the corn at the base of the hill. I couldn’t tell for sure, but I thought there was more than one. I wasn’t about to stand up and find out.
‘‘They’re armed,’’ I gasped into my radio. ‘‘Ten-thirty-two.’’
‘‘Ten-four, Three.’’ Calm, dispassionate. What we paid her for. If only it didn’t sound quite so much like she was bored . . .
Two deputies and two troopers came flying around the corner of the house.
‘‘Two suspects, armed!’’ hollered Hester. ‘‘Both into the cornfield.’’
Three members of the state TAC team rounded the corner a moment later, having come from their positions in the outbuildings. Two of them immediately went into the corn. The other, along with the four uniformed officers, took up overwatch positions back from the edge of the field.
A few seconds later, I stood up cautiously and backed up a bit, and sat on the porch steps. ‘‘Just too tired to chase ’em,’’ I said to Hester.
‘‘Me too,’’ she said, standing at the foot of the steps, looking into the house. ‘‘But I’m not going to sit until I know they’re all gone.’’
I sighed. ‘‘You’re right.’’ I stood and picked up my walkie-talkie again. ‘‘Comm, Three, get a team here to help us go through the house, will you?’’ I looked at Hester again. ‘‘ ‘Acceptable,’ for Christ’s sake. You are great, there’s no doubt.’’
‘‘You’re no slouch yourself. But next time, tell me what the fuck’s going on, all right?’’
‘‘I always tell you, just as soon as I know,’’ I said. With more truth there than I’d care to admit.
The remaining TAC officer came up. ‘‘What do you think?’’
‘‘I think,’’ I said, still a little breathless and drenched in sweat, ‘‘you’d better get your guys back out of the corn . . . or at least slow ’em up. The one I saw looks real hazardous.’’
‘‘They both do,’’ said Hester. ‘‘I’d get a K-9 team.’’
‘‘Any idea who they are?’’ he asked. We shook our heads.
After a few seconds, I just couldn’t help myself . . . ‘‘You gonna say it?’’
‘‘Say what?’’
I gestured toward the cornfield where the man had disappeared. ‘‘Him . . .’’
She got it. ‘‘Oh, no.’’ She groaned. ‘‘No, no fuckin