Part 2 (2/2)
A Boeing Swingjet appeared from behind the mountain and banked toward them. The engines perched on the ends of the stubby wings looked ominous, almost like rocket pods on a ground-attack helo. Charley knew better, but he couldn't help flas.h.i.+ng on the image. He felt better when the Swing-jet's nose turned away from him, lining up with the highway for a landing. The plane had no markings, but its sleekness said money or connections, or both. Maybe this killing did have corporate connections, after all. Charley's stomach felt tight. The engines kicked up clouds of debris and gusted hot, oily air over him as the Swingjet settled.
Before the engines cut out, the door swung down into a ramp. As the stairs popped up, a quartet of tough-looking guys in suits pounded down them. Fancy boys in tailored suits. They didn't show any weapons, but Charley had no doubt they were carrying. The first one made a beeline for Cullen, while the rest spread out around the Swingjet.
A couple of tech types-in G.o.dd.a.m.n white coats, for Christ sakes-struggled down the ramp. Their satchels made the narrow pa.s.sageway difficult for them to negotiate. The last guy out of the Swingjet had a little trouble squeezing through the narrow hatchway even though he didn't have to bend over to keep his head from b.u.mping the coaming as the others had. The guy wasn't very tall, but he sure was wide, nearly as wide as he was tall, making Charley think of a drill sergeant he'd once had; this guy looked a lot like old Jonesy if you took a couple feet out of Jonesy's middle and lightened his skin tone a dozen shades.
The shrimp was clearly in charge. Charley heard one of the techs call him Mr. Sorli. Very deferentially. Sorli pointed at the tarp-covered body and the techs scurried off. The locals pulled off the tarp, then stayed out of the whitecoats' way. The new boys opened up their bags and started to do the same things the crime scene crew had been doing.
Redundancy, sweet redundancy. These guys had to be feds.
”Lotta muscle for hunting bear,” Manny commented.
Manny just wasn't going to give up on the bear theory.
”They're feds. Haven't met the fed yet who's going to worry about a bear.”
”Feds?” Manny's face darkened, then lightened a bit. ”So much for no pattern. This must be some kind of psycho killing. Interstate stuff. Bet the perp's been cutting people up in half a dozen states. More of that luck of yours, Charley. Bet this is the closest they've come yet. You're gonna get yourself famous like Billy Kent down in Philly, Charley-boy.”
Charley felt a sudden nostalgia for the bear theory.
The whitecoats went diligently about their task while the first suit talked to Lieutenant Cullen. Sorli stood by the Swingjet, arms folded, surveying his team at work. Two of his pet suits towered behind him like a pro linebacker's Masai bodyguards.
Finally Cullen pointed toward Manny and Charley, and the suit headed in their direction. When he arrived, he addressed Manny.
”Officer Gordon?”
”That's me,” Charley said. The twitch of annoyance in the suit's face as he turned gladdened Charley's heart.
”Come with me, please,” the suit said stiffly.
Why the h.e.l.l not? A few questions and he could be headed someplace warm. Charley went along. The suit led him toward the shrimp. When they arrived in the shadow of the Swingjet's wing, the suit stepped aside, leaving Charley face to face with-well, facing anyway-the shrimp.
Sorli's hands were in his pockets, and he didn't pull one out to offer a handshake. ”Gordon?”
”That's me.”
”You are the one who found the body?” asked the suit on the left.
”Yup.”
The guy held out a reader. ”Would you please read your statement?” Charley did so. ”Is there anything you would like to add?” Charley shook his head as he handed the reader back. ”Anything you would like to alter?”
”Nope.”
”This is a serious investigation, Officer Gordon. Your superiors have promised complete cooperation. I do not believe that you understand the gravity of the situation.”
”d.a.m.n straight.”
”Your levity is not appreciated, Officer Gordon.”
Too bad. You don't own the country. You don't own me. ”I don't much appreciate being told to hang around here in the cold.”
”We would appreciate your cooperation.”
”I've been cooperating by hanging around out here, and you're acting like I'm the one putting you out.”
”This is a serious investigation, Officer. We have no interest in wasting our time, or any citizen's time for that matter. I am sure that we all will be quite happy to get on to other things.”
The sooner the better. ”Look. If you got specific questions, ask them.”
The suit looked as though he'd bitten into a lemon. A real one, good and sour. When he asked it, his question sounded more like a statement. ”You saw no one near the body, nothing out of the ordinary.”
”A b.l.o.o.d.y corpse on a mountain road is not ordinary. Leastwise when it's not a deer.”
”Quite. I meant to ask if you saw anything unusual that might be related to the killing.” ”Nop e.”
”The report you gave was very clear, but totally lacking in supposition. You are a police officer and surely you have some observations concerning the crime. Some thoughts.”
More all the time. ”I found the body, but I'm off duty.”
”You are a police officer, are you not?”
”I'm on leave, and even if I wasn't, this isn't my jurisdiction. I reported the find like a good citizen, and like a good citizen, I'm content to leave the investigation to the local law officers. I have plenty to do back home.”
”Ah, yes. You are involved in the Barrington slasher-killer investigation, are you not?”
”Peripherally.”
”You found one of the bodies in that case as well.”
”Yup.”
”Do you see any connection between the two?”
Other than dead bodies? ”Different killer.”
”You are sure of this?”
He'd thought so. Now? Maybe not. ”Got no evidence. You're the boys been collecting that.”
”Quite. Do you have any supposition concerning-”
Sorli interrupted him. ”Are you related to the victim?”
Just before Charley turned his eyes to the shrimp, he caught a flash of annoyance on the suit's face. Discord in the ranks? Sorli either didn't notice or didn't care; he stared at Charley with a hard expression. His dark eyes glinted coldly above his bearded cheeks.
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