Part 9 (2/2)

Chapter Twelve.

Deputy Russell Hanks got to the GE power plant two minutes before Sheriff Roy Conklin sped to a stop at the gates of the employee parking lot.

He'd received a call from the Phillipsport County dispatcher that something was amiss at the power plant. Just what, the dispatcher didn't say. It had been a routine 911 call, most likely from building security. It could be anything from a medical emergency to some wayward criminals holding up inside the plant with a hostage situation. The nearest state prison was one hundred miles south and a good fifty miles inland. If there were prisoners that had made a break it was feasible they could have made it this far north on foot, especially if they had stuck to the heavily wooded areas.

Sheriff Conklin had answered the call on the radio and Rusty waited for him in his patrol car at the entrance of the building. The wind was picking up a bit, and Rusty drew his raincoat tighter around his lanky body. He hadn't seen it rain this hard in years.

A moment later Sheriff Conklin's car pulled up beside Rusty's. Conklin rolled down the pa.s.senger side window. The rain had trickled to a steady drizzle. ”Let's see what kind of s.h.i.+t this is, partner.” Roy sneered. For a moment Rusty wondered what it would be like to step behind Conklin, pull his police-issued revolver, point it at the back of his superior's head and decorate the ground with Sheriff Brain stew.

It was the first time the thought of killing Sheriff Conklin crossed Rusty's mind and the notion downright scared him. The thought of pulling a gun on another human being unprovoked had never crossed his mind, especially in the heat of malice. It wasn't the act per se that had him on such pins and needles; rather, it was the fact of actually performing it. He would draw his gun if threatened and shoot to kill to protect himself or uphold the law. But to do so out of malice and hatred? Yes, Sheriff Conklin was an unbearable, smug, racist a.s.shole and yes, Rusty admitted that at times he downright hated the man. But kill him?

Why, that would make him just like Sheriff Conklin.

Rusty tried not to let his unease show as he got out of his car and followed the bigger man to the large gate that bordered the lot. ”How's the Harrelson kid?” Rusty asked, trying to make conversation.

”Pretty torn up,” Conklin replied. They were standing outside the gate to the power plant. ”That Ichabod Crane-looking hippie that runs that comic book store and that new guy brought him and his mother into Doc Jorgensen's. That new guy was there at the Doc's when I showed up.”

Rusty frowned. When Conklin didn't like somebody he didn't give them the compliment of calling them by their first name. It was like they didn't even exist. h.e.l.l, Rusty was surprised Conklin referred to him by his first name.

Before he could stop it from coming out, Rusty let his tongue loose. ”Why don't you like Rick, Sheriff Conklin? He sure ain't done nothin' to you.”

Conklin reacted as if a bucket of cold water had been thrown on him. He turned slowly to Rusty, a look of dumbfounded amazement on his craggy face. His cold, gray eyes were like flint and they bore right into Rusty's. Rusty dropped his gaze from the Sheriff, wis.h.i.+ng he hadn't said anything. G.o.d, but the man was an intimidating p.r.i.c.k.

The ice was broken by Conklin's laughter. Rusty looked up into Conklin's face, cracked by a wide grin as he chuckled. Rusty grinned, feeling the pressure lift from his shoulders. Roy put his hands on his hips, grinning down at his deputy. ”Why that's a stupid question, Rusty. You know how I feel about outsiders to Phillipsport. Especially ones from big cities like Philadelphia or New York, and especially ones with hair long enough to pa.s.s for a woman. d.a.m.n bunch of commie-loving, war-protesting, drug-snorting b.a.s.t.a.r.ds is what they are. Every single one of 'em. Ain't no better than n.i.g.g.e.rs and f.a.ggots as far as I'm concerned.” Conklin glowered at Rusty, his intimidating figure seeming to tower over the Deputy. ”It shouldn't matter to you what I think of him,” Roy said, slow and steady. ”What should matter is you knowing when to keep your nose out of other people's business.”

Rusty gulped and shuffled a step back. He didn't want to bring Conklin's fury down on him, but then again he'd seen the Sheriff violate the rights of too many people. Control was his vice, and intimidation was how he wielded it. He'd born witness to Roy's threats and intimidation since he had been a deputy, and his reluctance to stand up to the man felt like he was tarnis.h.i.+ng the badge of law and order.

Only now he wasn't going to take it anymore. He was getting downright tired of it. He stepped forward. ”I think that's something you need to follow yourself, Sheriff. b.u.t.ting into other people's business-like singling out Mr. Sychek for something he ain't even done; now that's b.u.t.tin' into other people's business. And if you're like'n to keep that up, then I guess I'm gonna have to tell the proper authorities.”

There. He'd said it. And his belly began flip-flopping in his abdomen as Sheriff Conklin glowered at him with an evil looking grin. ”Why Russell...that's pretty d.a.m.n good. For a minute there I didn't think you had any b.a.l.l.s.”

”I got b.a.l.l.s...you can bet on that. Least I don't pick on people the way you do.”

Roy's grin faded, replaced by an angry grimace. His eyes narrowed in their sockets. ”You better watch your f.u.c.king tongue boy. I'll slap you so hard your whole family will die.”

Rusty's heart was racing madly in his ribcage and he could feel the adrenaline pouring through his system. He was pumped and ready to go full swing. Might as well go all the way. What else did he have to lose besides this dead-end job? ”You know, I have a feeling that the people of this town are sick of you and the way you treat people.”

”What are you sayin' boy?” Roy coaxed him on, daring him.

Rusty paused for a moment as the rain pounded steady. ”Folks around town don't like the way you do business. Next year's the election and word is you won't be re-elected.”

Roy stood still, looking like an animal trapped in the headlights of an oncoming car. It obviously appeared that he had gotten the message loud and clear. He grunted, turned and began heading toward the power plant.

As they strode up the walkway to the power plant, Rusty appeared to let down his guard. Roy noticed this with a smirk. He would have figured it. The feebleminded deputy could talk as much s.h.i.+t as he wanted but it wouldn't do any good. Sheriff Roy Conklin was in control of this town, not the taxpaying citizens of Phillipsport. They just better watch it and not pull any funny stuff or they would see how quickly help arrived when the town started going up in flames.

But now his thoughts on his political defeat evaporated as he and Rusty stopped and looked up at the towering monolith that controlled the region's electricity.

Usually the building was lit up like a Christmas Tree. Not so now. There wasn't one light on in the structure anywhere.

Rusty looked concerned. Roy glanced at him with slight irritation and rubbed the back of his head. Much as he hated Rusty, he had to admit the power outage at the GE Plant was pretty weird s.h.i.+t.

Rusty finally broke the silence. ”Where is everyone?”

Roy was going to come back with an inane retort destined to put Rusty in his place, but the rain soaked parking lot and empty windows of the building made him think otherwise. ”I don't know,” he said quietly. The hostility was gone for the moment. The two men were once again cops.

Roy looked at the security booth next to the gate, which was wide open. Somebody should have emerged from the booth when they drove up. No guard had emerged to meet them, and n.o.body had emerged from the building.

Roy zipped up his coat, drew his hood up over his head and turned toward the booth. Rusty sighed and quickly followed suit. They walked up to the booth. Roy pulled a flashlight from his belt and flicked it on. He tapped on the dark window a few times, hoping for a response, but none came. He s.h.i.+ned the light into the booth. It was empty.

He stepped back and looked up at the fence. The top was covered with spools of razorwire. He looked down toward the beach where the waves were slamming on the rocks with ma.s.sive power. He turned his gaze toward the cars in the parking lot, the security camera perched on top of the security booth, and wondered why n.o.body from the control room inside hadn't come outside to greet them when they pulled in.

It was apparent that n.o.body was manning the control panel in the plant. Roy moved to the front gate, which was wide open. He placed a gloved hand on the chain-link fence. He tugged at the gate in puzzlement. ”What the f.u.c.k's going on? This thing is always locked.”

Lightning flashed in the distance, followed by a steady roll of thunder. The rain beat down harder, as if the sudden thunder had opened a chasm in the sky. Sheriff Conklin and Rusty raced down the lot to the employee entrance and the shelter of the overhanging concrete of the plant.

It was hidden from the security booth and the parking lot, but once they got to the employee entrance they knew something was terribly wrong.

The gla.s.s doors of the entrance were smashed to pieces. They lay shattered in the foyer.

They pulled their guns out of their holsters and crept quietly inside. Roy motioned silence. The tiled floor of the foyer was quickly becoming covered with water from the rain and the going was slippery. They crept slowly into the building.

The interior security booth was to the left. They approached it slowly, guns drawn. The steady rain pattering outside was the only sound in the plant.

The booth appeared empty.

Roy stopped just shy of the visitor's window where people stopped to sign in to security before going on to other parts of the building. He could see into the window of the booth and noticed the non-descript items: the desks, the control panels, computer monitors. No lights blinked on the panels. The monitors were blank.

Roy's nose tickled. He sniffed at the air, his nasal pa.s.sages picking up a strong, acidic scent. His eyes almost watered from the stench. ”You smell that, Rusty?”

”Yep.”

And it was then that he saw it, just out of the corner of his eye. A patch of blue lying on the floor, between the door of the security room and the employee break room. He motioned to Rusty.

His deputy saw it. ”What do you think it is?” Rusty asked quietly.

Roy shook his head. It looked like a discarded s.h.i.+rt, but it was hard to tell in the dark.

”Follow me.”

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