The Naturalist (The Naturalist #1)(93)

A police radio crackles in the cool air, and we all freeze as a dispatcher calls out, “Officer down! Backup requested at 239 Valley Pine. I repeat, officer down.”

Whitmyer looks to the nearest Hudson Creek police officer and says, shocked, “That’s Joe’s place.” He runs to his police cruiser and motions for his other cops to follow. “Let’s go!”

“You want backup?” asks Seward.

Whitmyer gestures to a cop and points to me. “Keep track of that asshole!”

“Goddamn fool,” I reply. “He doesn’t understand. None of you do. Joe Vik has been waiting for this day. All these years, killing in secret. Hiding. Now he doesn’t have to. He gets to show you what he really is.”

“What do you mean?” asks Glenn.

“All he wants to do is kill.”

“I think our cops can manage this,” says Seward.

“How long has it been? Ten minutes? You’ve already got one, probably two officers down. Vik was waiting for them. He’s going to kill Whitmyer and the others. Then he’s going to come here.”





CHAPTER SEVENTY-SEVEN


PERIMETER DEFENSE

Seward is pacing around the yard, his hands clenched in fists pressed to his hips as he listens to the radio from the remaining Hudson Creek police officer at Jillian’s home.

The reports have been sporadic. A second police unit approached Joe Vik’s home and found one officer sprawled out in the driveway and the other crouched behind his cruiser, bleeding from the neck.

All we’ve heard from Whitmyer is that they are approaching the house and taking positions around the property to try to contain him.

Glenn has been on his phone talking to Filmount County, prepping them on what’s happened so far. I’ve overheard him say “Joe Vik” at least three times. I don’t think he knows him as well as Whitmyer, but he seems to be aware of the man.

The door opens, and Jillian steps out onto the porch and takes a seat next to me.

“Ma’am, we need you to step back inside the house,” says Seward.

“Technically, I think I can ask you to leave my property.”

“Interfering with an arrest is a crime,” he replies.

Jillian nods to my handcuffs. “It looks like you arrested him. What is there left to interfere with?”

Seward turns away to check the radio.

“We’ve formed a perimeter. I’m going to get on the PA and ask Joe to come out,” says Whitmyer over the radio.

“Tell him to hold back and call in a SWAT unit,” I shout.

“Maybe we let Whitmyer do his thing?” says Seward.

Glenn stops talking to listen to the radio. “Maybe Whitmyer should hold off?”

“He and Joe go back. Probably better he deescalates it this way,” says a Hudson Creek deputy.

“What’s going on?” Jillian whispers to me.

“Joe Vik is going ballistic on the police. At least two cops are down.”

“Joe Vik . . . huh.”

“Who is he?”

“Joe runs the tow service, owns a parts yard and some other businesses. Sponsors Little League.”

“Yeah, but who is he?”

“Everybody knows him, but I don’t know if anybody knows him that well. He has a wife and two daughters. I think from her first marriage.”

Damn. I yell to the deputy, “Get someone who knows the wife and kids to call them!”

He waves me off. Seward glares at me.

“You don’t think he’ll hurt them?” asks Jillian.

“They’re probably already dead. They were a disguise. Now that they’re not needed anymore . . .”

People are beyond my understanding, but animals I can grasp.

“Going—” Whitmyer’s voice is stopped by the sound of rapid-fire shooting.

“Was that a TAR-21?” asks the deputy, his face wide with shock. “I need to go to this.”

He runs over to his squad car, turns the lights on, and races off.

“Can you get their channel?” Seward yells to the paramedic, still standing by.

“I’ll check,” he says, then starts flipping through frequencies on his radio.

Seward turns to Glenn. “Jesus Christ. How far out are your people?”

“Twenty minutes.” He points toward me. “Let’s all go inside and find out what we’re dealing with.” Glenn grabs me by my arm, helps me to my feet, and steers me through the door.

“Can’t you take the handcuffs off?” asks Jillian, following us in.

“This man is a suspected felon,” replies Seward. He shuts the door after us. “They stay on.”

“Let’s at least put them in front of him,” says Glenn. He takes out his keys and unlocks one cuff so I can bring them to the front of my body. “Sit down.”

I drop onto Jillian’s couch and realize how sore my arms are. She takes a seat next to me. Seward gives her a look, but she ignores him.

“What does Joe Vik look like?” I ask.

“Big guy,” says Glenn. “Maybe six and a half foot. Built like a linebacker. Red hair and beard. Quiet. Hard to imagine him as some stealthy killer.”

“Well, when he was leaner they used to mistake him for a cougar. Now he pretends he’s a bear.”