Red Dog Saloon (16 page)

His
five minutes of work slowly inching his way to his window now found him faced
with two questions. First, was his window locked? And second, why had the
pounding stopped at the conference room door? In his concentration during his
high wire act over downtown Easton, the absence of the pounding hadn’t
registered. Had the thing finally busted through the door or worse, had it gone
next door? Was it in his office waiting in the dark for him?

He
didn’t have a choice. He would have to take his chances inside. He hadn’t seen
a single person or vehicle pass the whole time he was on the ledge and, given
the snow and cold, it was unlikely anyone would just happen along. His choices
were either to stay up on the ledge and freeze to death, fall off the ledge
perhaps to his death or climb into his office and perhaps fall victim to the
dark man. He would choose door number three.

Glenn
got a quick answer to his first question, as much to his dismay the window was
locked. He would have to break it open but in doing so would have to carefully
swing his heel to avoid losing his balance. The fact his entire body was going
numb would make it even more dangerous.

His
first attempt at smashing the window failed. The shatter resistant glass
resisted his attempt at breaking and entering. They had replaced the windows at
city hall last year to rebuff a gang of BB gun bandits who had been shooting out
windows around town. The glass was the only new thing about the building.

He
realized his pounding on the glass would likely alert the thing inside to his
plans. He would only have a couple of more attempts before it would try to get
in his office, that is, if it weren’t already lurking inside.

Glenn
took a deep gulp of the cold air as he cocked his foot and prepared to make
another attempt.

“What
are you doing up there?” Bart’s voice called up from the sidewalk.

The
sound of Bart's voice from below almost caused Glenn to lose his balance.
He hadn't seen him approach from the shadows.

“It’s
in there!” Glenn hissed down, again flattening himself against the brick.

“What’s
in there?” Bart replied as he was obviously taken back by seeing the mayor tiptoeing
thirty feet above the sidewalk.

“The
killer - he’s inside,” Glenn responded in a loud whisper. “He’s after me!”

“Stay
where you are. I’ll be right up,” Bart shouted from the sidewalk as he pulled a
gun from under his coat.

His
rescue mission was short-lived, however as he returned to the sidewalk seconds
later.

“The
door’s locked,” Bart yelled back up.

Glenn
slowly fished the keys out of his pocket careful to make no sudden movements.

“Here,
it’s the round one,” Glenn announced as he tossed the key ring down.

Bart
 snatched
the key out of the air as it fell. However, even as he prepared to enter
the building, he wondered why the door was locked. Would the killer take the
time to lockup behind him if he were in the building? Something didn't make
sense.

Glenn
tried to think happy thoughts as he heard the front door close indicating Bart
had entered city hall. Would he hear a gunshot if Bart found whatever it was or
would that thing, that dark man, ambush Bart and come back up to finish him?
Would there be a point where Glenn would have to choose between taking a leap
of faith onto the sidewalk below or fighting off the Reaper?

The
mayor rested his head against the brick, keeping his eyes fixed on the building
across the street. He could see the pulsing lights atop the city’s water tower
just on the other side of the small-town skyline. He watched, counting the
flashes, trying to take his mind off of the fact he could die at any moment.
Where was Bart? Was he already dead?

His
question was answered as his office window flew up without warning and a hand
extended out grasping his arm in its steely grip.

“Get
in here,” Bart said as he pulled him through the open window.

The
mayor looked wild eyed as he scanned the room, looking for any sign of the dark
man.

“Where’s
he at?” Glenn asked nervously. “Did you find him?”

Bart
slammed the window down, closing out the cold as he gave his friend a glare.

“There’s
no one here …there’s nothing,” Bart declared. “Look around. We’re the only ones
here.”

“But
he was out there,” Glenn insisted. “He came at me from down the hall and I
snapped my key off in the door trying to get back in.”

Bart
calmly walked to the mayor’s office door and inspected it.

“You
mean this door?” Bart asked. “Your office door was unlocked, Glenn.”

Glenn
rushed over to the door and examined it closely but found no evidence of the
key he had broken off in the lock just minutes before.

“That’s
impossible,” Glenn declared.

The
mayor could feel Bart’s eyes upon him, a look of doubt in his gaze.

“I
didn’t dream it up,” Glenn insisted as Bart continued giving him the odd look.
“I’m telling you it was after me. I’m not crazy.”

“What
was after you?” Bart asked as he put his gun back into his shoulder
holster.

“The
Grim Reaper - the dark man - something,” Glenn responded, the words already
sounding unbelievable before he got them out. “I mean he was all in black and
he had one of those sickle things. He tried to cut me to pieces I tell you.
Don’t look at me like that. I know what I saw!”

Glenn
knew Bart didn’t believe his tale given the look on his face.

“Tell
you what, Glenn, it’s been a long night,” Bart began in a patronizing tone.
“Let’s go home and I’m sure things will look different in the light of day.”

“You
don’t believe me, do you?” Glenn said incredulously. “I know what I saw. It was
here. Why do you think I’d crawl out on that ledge? I’m scared of heights for
crying out loud.”

Bart
looked Glenn in the eye, realizing his friend may be going off the deep end
given the pressures of the day.

“I’m
sure you thought you saw something,” Bart began. “But the bottom line is the
door to city hall was locked, your door was unlocked and there’s no key broke
off inside it. Let’s just go home and get some rest then you can tell me
everything again in the morning.”

Glenn
ground his teeth in frustration, knowing Bart doubted his story.

“Let’s
go then,” Glenn growled, snatching his suit coat off the back of his chair.

“By
the way, I need a lift,” Bart continued. “My ride dropped me off here and it’s
a little cold for a walk this time of night.”

“How’d
it go?” Glenn asked.

He'd
forgotten all about their mission amid all the excitement of running for his
life.

“He’s
laid to rest,” Bart quipped.

“What
about our other problem?” the mayor shot back

“Not
a problem,” Bart responded with a sneer. “I killed two birds with one stone.
Let’s go get some sleep.”

John
Bray was a man of his word. His crew put in at Floating Mill at the crack of
dawn before taking the short boat ride over to Hurricane Bridge. They were
already conducting their first sweep of the black water below the span when Sam
arrived following a short cat nap on his office couch.

“There,
you happy?” John Bray asked, walking alongside the sheriff who leaned over the
side of Hurricane Bridge to watch the squad members below.

Sam
sipped his morning coffee as he watched the search effort. He was keeping his
fingers crossed they would be able to find something. However, knowing the
reputation of Castle Lake, the sheriff knew the odds were against them finding
the blue sedan beneath the depths.

“I’d
be happier if they found something,” Sam admitted.

Bray
was a veteran of many search and recovery operations around Hurricane Bridge.
His crew was usually called upon to find the bodies of unfortunate swimmers and
divers who went missing on the lake. However, in this case, their focus was an
automobile. The fact it was larger than a body would make it easier to find but
even if they did, raising it would be another matter.

“Well
even if we find something there are no assurances we’ll be able to bring it
up,” Bray admitted. “If your car is out past fifty yards from the bank then
it’s likely went down into the Bottomless Pit and there’s no way we can pull it
up with the equipment we’ve got. You’d need a major crane and we won’t be able
to get one of those in here until the first of the week.”

Sam
wasn't daunted by Bray’s assessment of the situation as he figured it was time
for him to catch a break.

“What
if it didn’t go into the Pit?” Sam questioned.

“’There’s
a rock shelf near the bank which only goes down about thirty feet,” Bray
answered. “If your car is on that and didn’t go over in the Pit then there’s a
good chance we can use a heavy duty tow truck to wench it out. But that’s a big
if. We’d have to be awfully lucky.”

“Hey
chief, we got something,” the voice of one of the squad members sounded over
Bray’s radio. “We have it on the remote underwater camera here. It looks to be
a car.”

Bray
was obviously surprised by the find as he assumed a vehicle with any momentum
would have made it to the Pit. He didn’t realize the car was barely creeping
along when it plunged off the cliff.

“Is
it on the shelf?” Bray called back.

“Yes
but just barely,” the searcher responded. “We need to get a diver and a hook in
here pretty quick or the current may pull it down into the Pit.”

“Okay,
I’ve got the wench,” Bray began. “Now, what idiot are we going to get to go down
there in that cold water and hook it up so we can pull it out?”

Sam
gave Bray a smile. He had come ready for such an eventuality.

“Eight-seventeen,
this is eight hundred,” Sam spoke into his radio. “I need you to come on out
here and bring your cold water gear. We found it.”

“Ten-four
sheriff,” replied the officer on the other end. “You’ll owe me a big one this
time.”

“We’ll
work something out, officer,” Sam replied. “Just get on out here and dress
warm.”

Thirty
minutes later an SUV with flashing lights sped up to the scene. Bo hopped out
from the driver’s side and walked to the passenger door, opening it for his
passenger. Being a country boy, he still believed in chivalry.

“Hey
gorgeous. What took you so long?” Sam asked as he extended his hand to help his
wife out of the vehicle.

Carly
was already dressed in her driving gear when she arrived. The skin-tight suit,
while covering her from head-to-toe, would do little to cut the chill of the
frigid lake. Her time in the water would be limited.

“You
better shut your mouth or I’ll make you put this thing on,” the sheriff’s wife
replied as she went to the back seat to lug her SCUBA gear out.

Mrs.
Delaney was not only the brains of the operation at Castle County Sheriff
Department but she was also one of the best divers in the county. She learned
her craft back in college and continued her education in advanced diving after
graduation. Sam didn’t like what he referred to as “big water”. He
opted to stay on the boat when his wife would go diving on their vacations
to the beach each year. The sheriff often quipped it was too difficult to drink
a beer underwater, explaining why he would stay on the boat with a fishing rod
while she was swimming with the sharks.

“Okay,
Mrs. Delaney,” Bray began in a patronizing tone as he and the sheriff carried
the heavy gear down the treacherous path to the water. “When you get under
there you need to …”

“Yeah,
yeah, I know. I need to attach the hook to the frame on both sides and loop it
over so it doesn’t slip,” she interrupted. “This isn’t my first rodeo.”

Bray
was somewhat taken back by being preempted by a woman given he was from a
discipline dominated by men.

“Okay,
well, it’s pretty dark down there so you’ll need to …” Bray began only to be
interrupted again.

“Yeah,
yeah. Follow the underwater camera cable down to it,” Carly said. “You boys
just make sure you know how to work the wench.”

All
Sam could do was laugh as Bray shot him a puzzled look.

“She’ll
eat you whole and spit out the bones,” Sam warned. “Just stay out of her way
and you’ll be fine. You do know how to work the wench ... right?”

The
recovery base was set up about thirty yards from the dive. It was the only flat
place on the bank where the wrecker could park at the bottom of the hilly
terrain.

Ten
minutes later Carly was in the water, making her way down the cable to the
submerged car. Sam would owe her a big one given the fact the mercury was still
in the twenties meaning the water temperature was, well, very cold. The hook-up
itself took far less time than it did just getting into the water as Carly
surfaced five minutes later and gave them a thumbs up.

Sam
was chilled just extending his hand to help his wife onto shore. He could only
imagine how frigid it was to be completely under the freezing water even with a
winter dive suit.

“Was
it cold down there?” Bray asked in what had to be the dumbest question Sam had
heard in a long time.

Carly
shook her head in disbelief as she removed her mask. She pretended she
didn’t hear the squad director’s question. There was simply no response to such
an ignorant statement.

“Get
me somewhere warm,” Carly demanded as Bo threw a parka over her shoulders.

“Get
in the cab of the tow truck,” Sam suggested. “It should be toasty in there. We
left the heat running for you.”

The
tow truck operator wasted no time starting the wench. The cable strained
against the weight of the automobile. A full minute elapsed as the cable hauled
the car up from the depths, the trunk finally breaking the surface. It was a
blue sedan!

“Bingo,”
Sam exclaimed as he slapped Bray on the back. “Good work.”

Two
minutes later the car was on shore. Water poured out from its open windows
quickly revealing no one was in the passenger compartment.

“Do
you suppose he ditched the car?” Bo questioned. “Or maybe whoever was in there
floated out.”

Sam
realized immediately upon seeing the open windows that no one drives down the
road with their windows down on a night when the low is in the single digits.
This told him the car was intentionally sunk. And, being a veteran lawman, Sam
knew there was one place they hadn’t checked yet. It was a place in which he
had found some interesting things over the years – the trunk.

Sam
leaned into the driver’s window and triggered the trunk as Bo walked around to
open the hood. Sam didn’t have to move from where he was standing to tell
something was in the trunk. All he had to do is watch the expression of his
detective's face.

“I
suppose the trunk isn’t empty, huh?” Sam asked with a sense of dread.

“Good
news or bad news?” Bo asked, shooting the sheriff a helpless look.

“Good
news. I can sure use some good news,” Sam replied.

“Well,
the good news is we’ve found Stevie Grissom’s body,” Bo responded. “And, better
yet, it appears all his parts are with him.”

“And
the bad news?” Sam winced.

“Rhody
Turner isn’t going to be making any statements,” Bo revealed.

Sam
walked with a defeated gait to where Bo was standing over the trunk. He stood
viewing the bodies of Rhody Turner and Stevie Grissom for a few moments. It was
all too much to digest.

“How?”
Sam asked as he slammed his fist down on the car. “How did he get him
out? It doesn’t make sense. How could our killer convince Rhody to break out?”

“Maybe
it wasn’t our killer, sheriff,” Bo said. “Maybe our killer has a sidekick.
After all, Rhody did say he was going to talk to his old lady.”

“Or
maybe our killer is a woman,” Sam shot back. “How do we know this isn’t the
work of a female? I mean a woman can be as dangerous as a man. Just look at my
wife. If we just knew who his old lady was.”

Bo
gave the sheriff a grin. He had just remembered a minor detail he forgot
to share with his boss given the shock of their discovery.

“Oh,
we know,” Bo revealed. “While you were snoring on the couch this morning, and
yes you do snore, Kendal ran down some leads and found out the identity of
Rhody’s girlfriend. By the way, have you noticed Kendal never sleeps plus he
has that pasty-looking skin? I think he may be a vampire.”

Shrugging
off Bo’s comment about his associate investigator, Sam was anxious to find out
more about the identity of the mysterious woman. He hated being the last
to know something.

“Do
we know if he’s paid her a visit?” Sam asked.

“He
was supposed to be heading over as I was bringing your wife out here,” Bo
responded. "I got so busy that I forgot to tell you about it."

“Eight-ten,
what’d you find out?” Bo asked over his portable.

The
pair waited in the cold for several seconds with only static answering Bo's
radio call.

“She’s
gone,” Kendal revealed after the slight delay. “Her landlord let me into her
apartment and all of her personal stuff is gone. He said she skipped out
yesterday sometime without paying this month’s rent too. The girl’s name is Tia
Wray.”

Sam
knew immediately the woman was not their killer. The young woman had only
recently showed up on the radar screen of law enforcement. Her problems
with the law were rooted to her addiction to meth. The illicit
drug explained her association with Rhody. The career criminal was
long known to prefer younger women since they were easier to corrupt. He also
used younger girls to buy the ingredients he needed to make his meth.

“She’s
a Smurf,” Sam noted.

The
disappearance of the young woman was disturbing to the sheriff, and not just
because she may have helped facilitate Rhody’s escape. He realized she was a
small-time criminal and was way in over her head. If she had fallen in with the
killer unawares, then she might suffer the same fate as her boyfriend.

“Put
out an all-points bulletin,” Sam ordered. “If anyone comes across her tell them
we want her stopped and held.”

“Will
do, sheriff,” Kendal signed out.

“I
don’t have a good feeling about this,” Sam said as he and Bo climbed the hill.
“I don’t have a good feeling at all.”

 The
thing about small towns is it doesn’t take much time for news to spread. The
grisly discovery of the bodies of Stevie Grissom and Rhody Turner was the talk
of the town before lunchtime. Accounts of the pair of corpses found in the
submerged car were already common knowledge long before the newspaper hit the
street. The mayor didn’t wait on the newspaper to arrive to demand answers
from his old friend.

“What
did you do?” Glenn shouted as he stalked into Bart’s office at the dealership,
still strung out from a sleepless night.

Sleep
eluded Glenn after he returned to his home that morning. The vision of the dark
man materialized in his mind every time he was about to nod off. He probably
evaded the blade of the mysterious intruder a thousand times that morning as he
played the events at city hall over in his mind. He wondered if he would ever
be able to sleep again. He feared that if he did close his eyes, the dark
man would be there to collect his head when he opened them again.

“It’s
all over the street,” Glenn continued.

His
loud tone prompted Bart to scurry over and close his door so their
conversation wouldn’t be overheard by a passerby.

“This
wasn’t what we agreed on,” Glenn scowled.

Bart
gave his friend a questioning look. He was put off by the
mayor's lack of appreciation for his efforts.

“Really
Glenn? Really?” Bart responded. “You’re going to go there? I did what I had to
do for all of us.”