Lethal(117)

In the center of the room, securely taped to a straight chair, was Stan Gillette. His head was bowed low over his chest. He appeared to be unconscious. Or dead. Moving quickly but carefully around the bloodstains, Crawford made his way toward him, calling his name.

The man let out a moan and raised his head just as Crawford reached him. “Is anyone else in the house?” the deputy whispered.

Gillette shook his head and replied hoarsely, “They left.”

“They?”

“Coburn and Honor.”

Crawford reached for his cell phone.

“What are you doing?” Gillette asked.

“Calling this in.”

“Forget it. Hang up. I won’t have my daughter-in-law arrested like a common criminal.”

“You need an ambulance.”

“I said forget it. I’m okay.”

“Coburn beat you?”

“He looks worse.”

“Mrs. Gillette was complicit?”

His lips hardened into a firm, straight line. “She had her reasons.”

“Honest ones?”

“She thinks so.”

“What do you think?”

“Are you going to get me out of this chair or not?”

Crawford replaced his pistol in the holster. As he sawed through the tape with the sharp point of his pocketknife, Gillette filled him in on what had taken place. By the time he’d finished with his story, he was free from the chair, stamping to restore feeling to his feet, flexing and extending his fingers to increase circulation.

“They took the USB key with them?” Crawford asked.

“As well as the soccer ball.”

“What was on that key?”

“They refused to tell me.”

“Well, it had to be something significant or your late son wouldn’t have gone to such great lengths to hide it.”

Gillette said nothing to that.

“Did they tell you where they were going?”

“What do you think?”

“Give you any hint? Did you pick up on anything?”

“They were in an awful rush when they left. As they raced through here, I demanded to know what was going on. Coburn stopped and leaned down, putting us eye to eye.

“He reminded me that when a Marine has a duty to perform, he doesn’t let any obstacle stand in the way of performing that duty. I told him yes, of course, what of it? Then he said, ‘Well, I’m a former Marine, and I’ve got a duty to perform. Intentionally or not, you could be an obstacle. So you should understand why I gotta do this.’ Then the son of a bitch slugged me, knocked me out. Next thing I know, you’re here.”

“Your jaw is bruised. Is it okay?”

“Have you ever been kicked by a mule?”

“I don’t suppose you saw what kind of car—”

“No.”

“Where’s your computer?”

Gillette led him down a hallway and into the master bedroom. “It’s probably in sleep mode.”

Crawford sat down at the functional desk and activated the computer. He checked the email server, the home page on the web browser, and even Gillette’s documents file. He didn’t find anything, nor had he expected to.

“Coburn wouldn’t have left us a trail that was that easy to follow,” he said. “I’d like to take your computer with me, though. Give it to the department techies, see if they can find what was on that key. I guess all we can do now—”

He drew up short when he stood up and turned around. Stan Gillette was holding a deer rifle in one hand and pointing a six-shot revolver at him with the other.





Chapter 44





It’s Coburn.”

Hamilton yelled at him through the phone. “About time. Damn you, Coburn! Are you still alive? Mrs. Gillette? The child? What happened with VanAllen?”

“Honor is with me. She’s okay. But they’ve got her daughter. I just talked to Doral Hawkins. The Bookkeeper wants to trade. Me for Emily.”

Hamilton exhaled noisily. “Well, that sums it up.”

“It does.”

After a beat, Hamilton asked, “VanAllen?”

“Honor didn’t meet him, I did. I suspected a trap, but I thought it would be him springing it. As it turned out…”

“Tom was clean.”

“Maybe.”

“Maybe? I understand he was practically vaporized.”

“Bad guys get double-crossed, too. Anyway, he answered his phone before I could warn him not to.”

“Where are you now?”

“Later. Listen, I found what I’ve been after. Turned out to be a USB key loaded with incriminating information.”

“On who?”

“Lots of people. Locals. Some not. A shitload of stuff.”

“You’ve actually seen it?”

“I’m holding it in my hand.”

“To swap for Emily.”

“If it comes to that. I don’t think it will.”

“What’s that supposed to mean?”

“It means that I don’t think it will come to that.”

“No more f*cking riddles, Coburn. Tell me where you are, I’ll get—”