Читать книгу Eagle's Last Stand - Aimee Thurlo - Страница 11

Chapter Four

Rick picked up a soft drink inside the fast food place, then walked back to where he’d left Daniel’s loaner SUV. He’d drive rather than walk back to campus. With time to spare, he took the long way, reacquainting himself with Hartley. Eventually he pulled into campus.

When he’d taken classes here right out of high school, the community college had been nothing more than a multi-classroom structure and administration building. Now the campus comprised about three acres, with a grassy commons area and central fountain.

Rick took the road leading to the visitors’ parking area and pulled into the first slot he found. After a short walk, he found Kim standing just down the hall talking to a man who looked vaguely familiar. It hit him a moment later when the guy turned and Rick saw his face clearly for the first time.

“Karl Edmonds. It’s been a lifetime,” Rick said.

“You know my professor?” Kim asked.

“Professor? That’s one career I never would have expected you to choose,” Rick said, looking at Karl.

“I’m technically an instructor, Cloud. I teach part-time, and work full-time for the Hartley P.D. I run the bomb squad,” he said.

“Now that fits the kid I knew,” Rick said.

Karl looked at the scar that ran across Rick’s face, then glanced away quickly. “Looks like you came in second in a knife fight, dude. Hope you’ve brushed up on your hand-to-hand since then.”

Rick remembered why Karl had always annoyed him. They’d always been competitors, never really friends. Karl’s biggest problem, which had obviously followed him into manhood, was that he never knew when to shut up.

“We’d better get going. Kim and I need to meet with Preston,” Rick said.

“It was good seeing you, buddy,” Karl said.

“I’m sure we’ll run into each other again.” Rick held Karl’s gaze for a moment longer than necessary. Instinct was telling him to be careful around the man. Was it that old competition between them or something more? He couldn’t tell, but until he figured it out, he wouldn’t lower his guard.

* * *

KIM FOLLOWED HIM to his SUV. “You and Karl... You weren’t ever really friends, were you?”

“No, but we attended school together and played on the same football team. We were friendly—at times.”

“I can’t believe how rude he was to you,” Kim said. “Do you really need to meet your brother or was that an excuse to walk away?”

“Both. It’s a bad idea to make enemies with someone Preston may have to depend on someday,” he said. “Right now, I’d also like to get clearance to take a look around the Brickhouse again in daylight,” he said. “Afterward we’ll head to Turquoise Dreams. Angelina certainly got my attention today.”

“Are you sure your brother’s going to be okay with you investigating on your own?”

“Under ordinary circumstances, no, but the Hartley P.D. is badly understaffed. I can be an asset to them because I’ve got the best law-enforcement training in the world.”

“Will I need clearance, too?”

“Yes. I need you there because you’re familiar with the place and can help me reconstruct the scene. If something’s off or doesn’t belong there, it might stick out to you but slip right past me.”

* * *

AS THEY RODE to the station, she remained quiet. Although she never looked directly at him, Kim was aware of the way his strong hands gripped the wheel and how he seemed to completely focus on whatever he was doing at the time. She wondered what he would be like in bed—all that intensity, all that drive.... Everything about him spoke of endurance and masculinity.

She shifted in her seat. This was not the time for thoughts such as these. Still watching him out of the corner of her eye, she saw him rub the bottom tip of the scar near his cheek.

“Does it ever ache?”

“What?” he asked, focusing on her.

“The scar.”

“Not generally. The skin around it feels tight sometimes, but that’s about it.” He glanced at her, then back at the road. “When we first met, you never looked directly at it. Most people stare when they see me for the first time, then try to pretend they weren’t.”

“Your eyes drew me more,” she said.

“My...what?”

“You have a way of looking through people, not at them.”

“I observe. It’s how I stay alive.”

“Is the scar one of the reasons you left the Bureau?”

“Yeah, it ruined me for undercover work. I became too easily identifiable.”

“You could have still been involved in routine investigative work,” she said. “Why leave?”

“I preferred undercover assignments.” He shook his head. “No, it was more than that. I knew it was time for me to come home and try to reconnect.”

“With your brothers?”

“With myself.”

* * *

THEY ARRIVED AT the police station a short while later and Rick led her down the hall to his brother’s office. Preston waved them inside.

“Anything new?” Rick asked.

“No, but it’s too soon. The lab’s backlogged.”

“I’d like clearance to search the crime scene,” Rick said. “I know the arson investigator and your crime scene team has already been through there, but maybe Kim and I will see something that’ll trigger a memory. It can’t hurt.”

“You’re right. In fact, I’ve already asked my captain about getting you officially involved. He’s agreed.”

Preston reached into the drawer and brought out a shield. “I’m deputizing you. Raise your right hand.” Preston swore him in with a short phrase.

“At the end of this case, if you want to join the force officially, your application will go to the top of the pile.”

“Thanks.”

Preston looked over at Kim. “Stay with Rick and follow his orders to the letter. You are not a police officer, you’re just an observer.”

“Understood,” she said.

“All right.” Preston looked at his brother. “Remember to wear gloves,” he added, handing him and Kim a pair each.

After they left the station, Rick asked, “What were the names of the servers last night?”

“Bobby Crawford and Kate Masters.”

“How do we find them?”

“Kate’s probably in class right now. She carries a heavier load than I do and is just a few credit hours away from her business degree. She probably won’t be much help. Kate’s a hard worker, but her mind’s always on some test or paper. She rarely even goes into the kitchen.”

“What about Crawford?”

“Bobby comes in on time and does his job, but never has much to say. We don’t talk about anything other than job-related things.”

As they neared what remained of the Brickhouse, Rick slowed down to study the heavily damaged structure before parking across the street.

“Look down the alley. The back wall was pretty much blown out last night, but it looks even worse this morning. More bricks and roof beams must have come down since then. The loading dock and half the alley are blocked.”

“At least all that flying debris didn’t penetrate the side wall of the furniture store. These old downtown buildings were built to last,” Kim noted.

“Well, whoever cut the gas line and blocked the door counted on the initial blast and resulting fire to do their work,” he said. “If we hadn’t escaped and lived to tell the real story, it might have been written off as an accident caused by faulty connections.”

Kim peered ahead at a young man ducking beneath the tape and walking into the alley. “I think that’s Bobby Crawford. See him over there? He’s wearing jeans, a gray sweatshirt and ball cap,” she said, pointing.

Rick caught a glimpse of the man just as he climbed over a pile of rubble and headed toward the loading dock. “Come on. Let’s go talk to him.”

By the time they’d crossed the street and reached the crime scene barrier, Bobby was nowhere in sight. Rick slipped beneath the crime scene tape and climbed up the rubble-filled stairs of the loading dock to look inside.

“Stay here,” Rick said, then slipped though the gaping hole where the blown-out kitchen doors had once stood.

Rick moved slowly and carefully, picking his way through the mess. Only a few wall studs and pieces of wallboard remained between the kitchen and the dining room. The left wall of the kitchen facing the street had also lost most of its roof structure. From where he stood, Rick could see blue sky and part of the parapet. As he turned to look back out into the alley, Rick noticed that the remaining outside brick wall on both sides of the gap was bowed, ready to crumble.

At the far end of the dining area was a set of brick-littered stairs leading down into the basement. Except for a few inches of water, it was probably the least damaged room in the tavern.

He stood still for a moment, listening. Someone was going through the rubble in the north end of the dining area, the side farthest from the street and hidden by the remaining walls. He turned toward the sound. Despite his size, Rick could move silently when he hunted man or beast. He had a tattoo over his heart with the word chaha’oh. It meant shadow.

“Federal agent. Don’t move.” As he stepped through what remained of the doorway, he realized he’d spoken out of habit. He was now working with the Hartley Police. “Turn around slowly.”

“Just don’t shoot, okay? I work here,” he said. “Remember me from last night? I’m Bobby. Bobby Crawford.”

Hearing footsteps behind him, Rick turned his head for a second and saw Kim. She’d come in the same way he had, through the door cavity, and was wearing a white hard hat and holding another.

“Dude, just chill, okay?” Bobby said, his hands up. “In the rush to get out last night, I lost something important. I was hoping to find it before they brought in the bulldozers. It was a gift from my mom.”

Rick sized Bobby up in a glance. He was around eighteen or nineteen, stood five foot six and had dark hair and brown eyes.

“Did you mention this to the police when they took your statement?”

“No, I didn’t realize it was gone until this morning. It’s a gold crucifix I wear around my neck on a chain.”

“You shouldn’t be here. That’s why the yellow tape’s there,” Rick snapped. “It’s not safe for the public to be rummaging around, moving things around.”

“Dude, are you listening? It’s not evidence. It’s a family heirloom.”

“Forensic experts and the fire marshal will continue to sort through the debris and recover items. If your crucifix is found, you’ll get it back,” Rick told him. “Let me see your driver’s license.”

When Bobby handed it over, Rick took a quick look, then returned it. “All right. Get going. If anything belonging to you turns up, I know how to find you.”

Bobby backed out through the kitchen and quickly disappeared down the steps.

“I ran into the fire marshal out on the sidewalk,” Kim said, and handed Rick the hard hat. “Preston had called to tell him we’d be here, so Medina came over to make sure we followed safety protocols. He said no one’s allowed inside the Brickhouse without hard hats and he intends to stand by until we’re ready to leave.”

Rick gave her a tight-lipped smile. “Medina give you hard time?”

“No, not really,” she replied softly, gesturing to the street to indicate the man was close by. “He told me not to lean on anything or to move any structural elements. Then he gave me these and insisted we wear them.”

“All right,” he said, putting the hard hat on. “Let’s take a look around, then we’ll go into the kitchen, where all this started.”

She stood in one spot and turned around in a circle, slowly surveying the wreckage. “I can’t believe what this place has become. You could always hear laughter here.”

“Everyone’s okay and we have another chance at life. That’s a reason for laughter. You ready to go into the kitchen?”

She nodded. They picked their way back, stepping over and around the remnants of the shattered interior.

They were barely in the kitchen when Arnie Medina poked his head in through the front door and yelled. “This place is coming down! Get out. Now!”

Rick grabbed Kim’s hand and moved toward the gap in the wall facing the alley. Before they could reach the opening, a cloud of dust descended and bricks began to tumble from overhead, raining down on their escape route.

Rick turned back toward the dining area when a roof beam sagged, then cracked as the ceiling gave way.