Known Dead_ A Novel - Donald Harstad [8]
‘‘Okay.’’ I was thinking about his shots at me as I came up the trail. Well, at least now I knew that he aimed a little high. Thank God.
‘‘We saw this one,’’ said Ken, gesturing at the mound under the blanket. ‘‘He was just walkin’ through the woods, came right up the path.’’
‘‘Okay . . .’’
‘‘Like he wasn’t all that cautious. Had a shotgun, and that other gear with him. We saw him, then we lost him as he hit the trail.’’ He pointed uphill and to the right of the trail. ‘‘We were up there.’’
‘‘Right.’’
‘‘We saw him again, once, and Kellerman and I decided to go get him.’’ Johansen looked at us, distressed. ‘‘There are two ways to the patch from here, you know.’’
We didn’t, but we nodded just the same.
‘‘We split up,’’ he said, ‘‘and after a few seconds, I heard two shots, about the same time. I thought, maybe, that somebody . . .’’
Johansen gulped down some water. None of us said a word.
‘‘God, it’s hot,’’ he said. ‘‘I thought that he’d fired a couple of shots to get the doper to stop. I went running back, and hollered, but nobody said anything, and then there were a whole bunch of shots . . . Jesus, there were a lot.’’
He’d rushed on, and as he came to where the dead doper was lying, he saw someone in camouflage clothing rise up and point a gun at him. ‘‘Shit, I thought it was Kellerman, you know?’’
Oh, yeah. When you’re expecting to see a particular person, you see ’em. Even if it’s not them at all.
‘‘I said, ‘It’s me,’ and then I saw it wasn’t him, and I just dove into the bushes and the son of a bitch just started shootin’ at me.’’ He shuddered. ‘‘I fuckin’ landed on Bill, man. Right across his legs. Oh, shit, I mean, he was alive . . .’’ He looked at Hester. ‘‘I hope I didn’t hurt him . . .’’ He was going pale. ‘‘And . . .’’ Ken looked around. ‘‘I think I’d better sit down,’’ he said. And did. Plop. We all tried to grab him at the same time, but he sat too quickly.
Lamar was on us in a second, talking on his walkie-talkie. ‘‘Get me a couple of EMTs up here, I have a man who needs some attention, possibly heat.’’
Dr. Steve Peters, the deputy medical examiner, was with Ken in about two seconds.
We just sort of stood around, looking dumb. That’s what happens when you want to help and either can’t or can’t do anything useful. We stayed around long enough to make sure Ken was okay.
I gestured with my head, and Hester stepped aside a bit with me. ‘‘Okay if I look at the doper?’’
Hester smiled. She has a great smile. I mean, it really looks like she’s glad to see you. An honest smile, I suppose you’d call it. She’s about ten years younger than I am, which makes her mature enough for most anything, and still young enough to do it. At about five feet six, she’s also close to a foot shorter than me, very fit, with short hair. That makes her look even younger. Just based on appearances, you wouldn’t consider her much of a threat. Not unless you knew her.
‘‘Sure, Carl.’’
‘‘Thanks, Hester.’’ I grinned back. I must have looked a little more stressed than I thought.
Her smile faded. ‘‘This is a bad business, Carl. Very bad.’’
‘‘You got that right.’’ I stopped at the body. ‘‘We don’t know who he is?’’
Agent Dahl spoke up. ‘‘No. Not yet, anyway. We’ve checked him for ID, but there’s none on him.’’ He paused. ‘‘There probably shouldn’t be any, anyway.’’ I wasn’t aware he’d been following us.
‘‘Can I move him a bit?’’ You should always ask, to make sure all the photos are done, and all the ‘‘in place’’ data has been gathered.
‘‘Go ahead, Carl,’’ said Hester. She lifted the blanket.
The body was a real mess. Blood had soaked his faded blue jeans, and the front of the unbuttoned shirt was so sticky it matted to his ribs. He’d been torn up from the lower belly through the side of his head. Half dozen wounds, at least. The head wound had pretty well removed the top of his head, making a channel as it did so, so