Page 123 of The SEAL and the Sheriff

The loading gates that opened onto the exterior dock extended across the far wall, all closed. Loose cardboard littered the floor beneath rows of empty storage racks. She checked upward. Above the gates, the supervisor’s office overlooked the room from a narrow mezzanine. Water dripped somewhere in the rafters, loud in the open space.

Walter whispered as they moved in a slow circle. “Where’d he go?”

Sarah kept to where the shadows were deepest along the wall. No sway in the hanging plastic. He hadn’t crossed the open floor.

Between two towering stacks of old fish crates, a narrow service passage also led to the exterior dock. The door was ajar. Fine. She knew where it came out.

“I hate splitting, but together we lose the dock and he disappears.”

Walter jerked his head. “Agreed.”

She motioned with her rifle. “Take the service passage. I’ll go through the personnel door. We cut him off outside.”

“On it.” Walter moved off, rifle raised.

The personnel door was set into the wall close to the nearest loading-bay gate. Sarah eased it open, and for once the hinges cooperated and made no sound. She stepped onto the exterior walkway and hurried around the side of the building.

The service passage Walter had taken ended twenty yards ahead. The door flew open, and the man dodged out into the freezing air.

She snugged her weapon against her shoulder. “Sheriff. Stop there.”

His boots skidded on the greasy wood. He turned, eyes wide with genuine surprise, and swung his rifle toward her.

Sarah already had him covered.

“Don’t.” Walter appeared behind him.

The man’s eyes flicked between them. Icy water all around. Walter blocking the passage. Sarah’s muzzle centered on his chest. The calculation died. His shoulders lowered a fraction, and his rifle touched the floor.

“It’s over,” she said. “Down. Now.”

She cuffed his wrists behind him, then secured him to a supporting upright with a zip tie. Walter gave him a quick pat-down for radios and additional weapons.

Two in custody.

“Here.” Walter held up two radio handsets, pocketed them, then followed her back along the walkway. They re-entered the cannery through the personnel door.

A narrow wooden staircase climbed the side wall to the supervisor’s office on the mezzanine above. Sarah climbed the stairs along their outer edges, where the wood looked strongest and least likely to complain.

The office sat at the end of a short landing, its door closed. Wraparound windows gave away nothing in the gloom. She crouch-ran to the nearest and risked a look through the dirty glass.

Shit.

Cord. He was strapped to the gurney, face pale. One man stood guard, sweat gleaming on his forehead. They hadn’t made the transfer yet.

Sarah turned to Walter and held up one finger. One suspect.

Walter pointed toward the narrow catwalk that wrapped around the outside of the office, barely wide enough for a man to sidestep along. She nodded in reply. They’d done this enough.

He bent low and disappeared into the darkness without a sound. Sarah counted as she kept an eye on the guard pacing inside the office.

Three seconds.

Five.

Seven.

Long enough for doubt to suggest itself, but she was no longer taking suggestions. A faint scrape from Walter came from beyond the exterior wall. The guard’s head turned away from her, toward the sound.