Font Size:  

“Two. They both called nine-one-one and helped Mr. Cox give CPR.”

“Have they been thoroughly checked?”

“We’re working on it right now.”

“Did any of them see anything out of the ordinary?”

“Nothing came up during the initial interview that was handled by the sheriff’s department.”

Coleman’s companion emerged from the woods. He held up his forefinger and said, “One guy. He had a bike, and he wasn’t here long.”

McMahon was completely dumbfounded. “Where? Show me?”

The guy walked over to the edge of the road and pressed his thumb down on the end of his tactical flashlight. The tiny device was extremely powerful. “See how the tall grass is pushed toward the street in that single line? Those are bike tires. The markings on the right are footprints. The tire track curves this way.” The man pointed south. “The street dead-ends down there, but there’s a trail that cuts through the woods.” He looked at Coleman. “I’ve run it with Mitch before. After about a mile the trail forks—east to a beach and west, where it hooks up with a dirt road that runs along the edge of a small airstrip back out to one of the county roads.”

“Back up a minute,” said McMahon. “There were a fair amount of people running around here after the explosion. When I arrived on the scene I remember at least one person with a bike and who knows how many had already come and gone. How do we know it wasn’t some neighbor who made that track?”

“Can you give me one good reason why a neighbor would carry their bike twenty feet into the woods, lay it down on the ground, and then lie down next to it?”

“Not off the top of my head.”

The man looked back at Coleman. “I’m going to take a look at the path and see what I can find.” He held up a Nextel two-way mobile phone. “I’ll check in with you in fifteen.”

“You want me to come with?”

The guy shook his head. “This tango is long gone.” Without another word, the man took off jogging down the street.

“Who the hell is he?” asked McMahon.

“He’s the best sniper I’ve ever seen. He can track anything.”

“He works for you now?”

“Yep.”

“Lovely. God, I hope you don’t end up with the FBI on your doorstep someday.”

“You and I both.”

The sheriff returned, mumbling something under his breath. It was obvious things hadn’t gone so well at the roadblock. “This TV crew is getting really pushy. They know we’re stonewalling them. I spoke to their news director myself and he says we have five minutes until he gets a lawyer and judge involved. They’re demanding to know the status of the husband, and they said they don’t care if he worked for the CIA and neither will the judge.”

Before McMahon could answer, Coleman said, “Sheriff, will you give us just a minute?”

The sheriff appeared hesitant at first and then consented. Coleman pulled McMahon a few feet away. “Can you take your FBI hat off for a second?”

“Do you really have to ask me that?” McMahon had proven to Coleman in the past that he was willing to look the other way.

“Throw the TV crew a bone. Have the deputy tell them Mitch is dead.”

“Why in the hell would I want to do that?”

Coleman stared at him with a look that said, Do I really have to explain this to you? He would have preferred to not have this conversation with a law enforcement officer, but there wasn’t a lot of time. “This was not an accident. It was a contract kill. One guy, maybe two.”

“You’re sure?”

“Yes.”

“So why do you want us to leak to the press that Mitch is dead?”

Source: www.allfreenovel.com
Articles you may like