Buried Truth. Dana Mentink

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СКАЧАТЬ plenty of bugs and fresh water for the hordes of swallows that nested in the cliff walls. Now, as Bill and the three other men watched through binoculars from behind a screen of shrubs, the only movement came from the sudden dive of a bird and the swish of dry grass tickled by the hot wind.

      Next to Bill, Al Crow and Captain Richmond peered through binoculars. The camper perched crookedly in the grass was rusty, the windows obscured by blinds. Jim Rudley, the same federal investigator who had assisted in the manhunt for Oscar after Johnny’s death, held a phone to his ear. Crow shifted uneasily. “Could handle it ourselves.”

      Richmond grunted. “He’s calling for the bomb squad, just in case this is an ambush.”

      Both men shot a look at Bill. He could remember the blast so clearly, the one that had killed Johnny. The flash, the explosion that had made his ears ring. Holding his partner’s hand and begging him not to die. He forced a steady voice. “Who tipped us?”

      “Reggie,” Crow said.

      Reggie was a mechanic who did any odd job he could find on the Eagle Rock reservation. He’d proven to be a help to the Tribal Rangers on many occasions.

      Crow continued. “Said kids were using the trailer for drinking and such a while back, so he keeps a close eye on it. Saw some tracks near the creek, saw a light last night and called it in to us this morning.”

      Bill stared at the trailer. It had been there so long, on an abandoned stretch of land, he could no longer remember who had left it there. Nothing moved in the interior. Nothing that he could see, anyway.

      Richmond and Crow stood next to him, hands on their guns, tense. He knew they felt the same mixture of anger and excitement that he did. If Oscar was in there, they could put away the guy who killed Johnny. This time for good.

      Rudley clicked off his phone and nodded to Bill. “Explosives guys are on their way, but it will be a while.”

      Bill looked again at the rusty trailer.

       I’m coming for you.

      Oscar was a twisted man, incapable of normal emotions, his troubles probably born of the days he lived with his mother and a steady stream of abusive men, according to the sketchy facts collected about his life. As far as Bill knew, Oscar loved only two things—his mother, who had passed away two decades before, and his son, Autie, now dead after trying to escape arrest.

      It did not matter that it was not Bill’s finger on the trigger. In Oscar’s mind Bill had murdered his son. This was not about laws or justice. It was revenge, pure and simple, and Bill hungered for it just as much as Oscar.

      The feeling shamed him. He knew what Aunt Jean would say.

       Leave the judgment to the Lord, Bill.

      Well, the Lord had abdicated the day he let Johnny get blown up.

      Without a word, Bill drew his weapon and headed for the trailer.

      Behind him he heard Crow gasp.

      “Cloudman,” Rudley whispered. “Get back here.”

      Keeping to the edge of the foliage as best he could, Bill crept on toward the trailer.

      Rudley tried to catch him. “Don’t be stupid. You can’t fix what happened by getting yourself killed.”

      But Bill had already left the shelter of the branches and begun running toward the trailer, head low and moving as fast as he dared.

      He reached the trailer and plastered himself against the side, listening, the heat from the metal soaking into his skin. No sound. No movement. Edging closer to the tiny window, he noticed a gap in the blinds that would enable him to get a look inside.

      Inching along, he saw in his peripheral vision that the other officers had moved in closer to provide backup. They were good men who would die trying to help him even though he was not one of them anymore.

      No one is going in there but me.

      He would not allow anyone else to die.

      Pulling even with the window, he took a deep breath and popped his head up to get a look. All he saw was the darkened interior, no sign of anybody lying in wait.

      He eased back to the front door, checking carefully on the ground for any signs that it was rigged to explode, though he knew his checking likely didn’t matter. Oscar was a genius with all things mechanical or explosive, so he wouldn’t leave any telltale signs if he’d wired the door.

      Bill eyed the ramshackle structure again, noting another window on the far end, over the hitch. With the other officers closing in, Bill headed for it, climbing up on the tow hitch and risking another look inside. Still no sign of life. Resisting a sudden urge to pray, instead he turned his gun and brought the butt down on the glass.

      It shattered, cascading in jagged shards down to the dusty ground. He didn’t wait any longer. Plunging feet first through the window, he hit the floor and crouched, gun ready.

      But there was no one. Perfect silence except for the tinkle of the glass that continued to drop onto the worn linoleum floor. Oscar wasn’t here. Bill felt it even before he did a quick search of the small bedroom area and the even smaller bathroom. No one. The tip was wrong. He would not be bringing Oscar Birch down today.

      Could be that Oscar had never even been here in the first place. Bill ground his teeth.

      He heard shouts from outside.

      “Cloudman?” Crow yelled.

      Bill checked the door from the inside before opening it. “All clear.”

      As the officers piled into the trailer, Bill’s eye was caught by an envelope lying on the kitchen table. He approached warily, but the envelope had not been rigged to explode. Bill slid the contents out.

      “Cloudman,” Rudley snapped, face red with exertion and anger. “That was crazy. You endangered your life for nothing after I specifically ordered you to wait.”

      Bill’s eyes locked on the photos in his hands.

      Rudley spoke louder. “I guess you need reminding that you’re not an officer anymore. You got no badge and no business interfering. We informed you as a courtesy and you blew it.” He stepped forward. “Are you listening to me, Cloudman?”

      But Bill was not listening. His fingers were suddenly cold, the icy feeling flowing up his arms and into his heart.

      He shoved the photos back into the envelope. “We’ve got to find Heather. Now.”

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