Without remorse - Tom Clancy [298]
Trooper First Class Ben Freeland was on his regular patrol routine. Every so often something real would happen, and he figured it was his job to know the area, every inch of it, every farm and crossroads, so that if he ever did get a really major call he'd know the quickest way to it. Four years out of the Academy at Pikesville, the Somerset native was thinking about advancement to corporal when he spotted a pedestrian on Postbox Road near a hamlet with the unlikely name of Dames Quarter. That was unusual. Everybody rode down here. Even kids started using bikes from an early age, often starting to drive well under age, which was another of the graver violations he dealt with on a monthly basis. He spotted her from a mile away - the land was very flat - and took no special note until he'd cut that distance by three quarters. She - definitely a female now - was walking unevenly. Another hundred yards of approach told him that she wasn't dressed like a local. That was odd. You didn't get here except by car. She was also walking in zigzags, even the length of her stride changing from one step to another, and that meant possible public intoxication - a huge local infraction, the trooper grinned to himself - and that meant he ought to pull over and give her a look. He eased the big Ford over to the gravel, bringing it to a smooth and safe stop fifty feet from her, and got out as he'd been taught, putting his uniform Stetson on and adjusting his pistol belt.
'Hello,' he said pleasantly. 'Where you heading, ma'am?'
She stopped after a moment, looking at him with eyes that belonged on another planet. 'Who're you?'
The trooper leaned in close. There was no alcohol on her breath. Drugs were not much of a problem here yet, Freeland knew. That may have just changed.
'What's your name?' he asked in a more commanding tone.
'Xantha, with a ex,' she answered, smiling.
'Where are you from, Xantha?'
'Aroun'.'
'Around where?'
'Lanta.'
'You're a long way from Atlanta.'
'I know that!' Then she laughed. 'He dint know I had more.' Which, she thought, was quite a joke, and a secret worth confiding. 'Keeps them in my brassiere.'
'What's that now?'
'My pills. Keep them in my brassiere, and he dint know.'
'Can I see them?' Freeland asked, wondering a lot of things and knowing that he had a real arrest to make this day.
She laughed as she reached in. 'You step back, now.'
Freeland did so. There was no sense alerting her to anything, though his right hand was now on his gunbelt just in front of his service revolver. As he watched, Xantha reached inside her mostly unbuttoned blouse and came out with a handful of red capsules. So that was that. He opened the trunk of his car and reached inside the evidence kit he carried to get an envelope.
'Why don't you put them in here so you don't lose any?'
'Okay!' What a helpful fellow this policeman was.
'Can I offer you a ride, ma'am?'
'Sure. Tired a' walkin'.'
'Well, why don't you just come right along?' Policy required that he handcuff such a person, and as he helped her into the back of the car, he did. She didn't seem to mind a bit.
'Where we goin'?'
'Well, Xantha, I think you need a place to lie down and get some rest. So I think I'll find you one, okay?' He already had a dead-bang case of drug possession, Freeland knew, as he pulled back onto the road.
'Burt and the other two restin', too, 'cept they ain't gonna wake up.'
'What's that, Xantha?'
'He killed their ass, bang bang bang.' She mimed with her hand. Freeland saw it in the mirror, nearly going off the road as he did so.
'Who's that?'
'He a white boy, dint get his name, dint see his face neither, but he killed their ass, bang bang hang.'
Holy shit.
'Where?'
'On the boat.' Didn't everybody know that?
'What boat?'
'The one out on the water, fool!' That was pretty funny, too.
'You shittin' me, girl?'
'An' you know the