Deadly Cross (Alex Cross #28)(53)

“That was great,” Mahoney said when he came to the surface. “I think there are springs in this lake. I felt a cold spot back there.”

“And there’s no one here,” I said. “I mean, I haven’t heard a boat, have you?”

“Not one,” he said, rolling onto his back to take in the entire cove. “I could live in a place like this. I could live in a place like this forever.”

“I think a lot of people could,” I said, treading water. “The road. The logging. I think this place is being developed, and not as a park.”

“Could be,” Ned said. “But we can’t look at any of it until we get the order.”

Before I could reply, I caught a flicker of movement out of the corner of my eye and twisted to look along the far side of the cove. A lean, muscular African-American man in faded green military gear was crouched at the edge of the forest where it met the rocky shore. He held a scoped hunting rifle that was aimed in our direction.

“Duck!” I yelled a split second before the gun went off.





CHAPTER 59





I HEARD THE BULLET CRACK by me as I dived. I swam deep and went as far as I could toward shore before surfacing for one quick breath. When I dived again, I could see rocks in the shallows ahead of me. I needed to get to my clothes and my gun.

When I surfaced the second time and scanned the shore, the shooter was gone. I swam behind a rock and made sure I could not see him before quickstepping from the water to my clothes.

Mahoney was right behind me, sputtering. “Who took that shot?”

“African-American with a hunting rifle,” I said, snatching up my pile of clothes and pushing my bare feet into my shoes. I trotted back toward the car and out of sight of the north side of the cove.

“Dress,” Mahoney said. “I’ll cover you.” He had his back to me and held his service weapon two-handed as he swept it back and forth across the cove.

I threw my pants on, got my gun out, and told Ned to dress while I covered him. We threw everything else in the vehicle and got out of there as the sun began to set and the golden light turned to shadows.

“Who the hell was he?” Mahoney said.

“Got me,” I said. “He was there. He shot. He was gone.”

“If he’s security, he just shot at two federal officers in the course of an investigation.”

“Buck-naked in the water where we weren’t supposed to be.”

Ned glanced at me. “Whose side are you on?”

“The side of my reputation and good standing with the Bureau.”

Ned considered that, then said, “I see your point.”

It was a fifteen-minute drive back to the gate. But it wasn’t until we were almost there that I got enough bars of cell service to download a satellite view of where we’d just been.

“That was Lake Martin we were swimming in,” I said. “If I’m right, this property is one of the largest undeveloped tracts of land on the lake. It could be worth a fortune.”

“Maybe we had it all wrong,” Mahoney said, putting the car in park at the gate and turning on his headlights so I could see.

I nodded, climbed out to open the gate, and said, “Maybe Kay wasn’t killed for political reasons. Maybe she was killed for something much more mundane, like a huge pile of cash.”

Darkness had fallen by the time Mahoney drove through the gate and I rewrapped the chain and hung the lock the way we’d found it. The road was worse going back than coming in.

We were bouncing around and trying to avoid potholes and ruts when a brilliant light flared behind us, filling the car, showing the road ahead like it was broad daylight. I turned and saw a fast-approaching truck with its headlamps on high beam and a big, powerful spotlight array on the roof that threw blinding light. I caught a glimpse of a heavy-duty bumper and grille guard that looked like it belonged on an army tank.

“He’s going to ram us!” I yelled.

The truck engine roared. The bumper smashed into our rear, throwing us sideways onto a slick patch. Mahoney clawed at the wheel, squinting at the glare, and almost righted us before the truck hit us again.

We went sideways to the left. Our rear quarter panel hit an embankment, and we were thrown back across the road and right in front of the truck with the lights and that bumper. I thought for sure we were going to be rammed broadside and flipped end over end into the trees.

But the truck hit a huge cross-road rut where a culvert had washed out, which bounced the rig to the right, and the left corner of the bumper just missed us as we spun out and off the road. I expected a massive crash and tried to brace myself, but we just sort of bumped and slithered to a stop in a pasture.

The truck did not slow and did not shut down the lights as it went on toward the highway. We both sat there a few minutes, rattled and gasping at the adrenaline coursing through our bloodstreams.

Mahoney finally put his hands back on the steering wheel and touched the gas. The front end pulled hard right, but he was able to get the rental out of the field and onto the road. We had to pry the front fender off one of the wheels, but, traveling at about forty-five miles an hour, we managed to get all the way back to Montgomery without the car shaking apart.

When we pulled up in front of our hotel, I said, “We’ve been given the runaround, shot at, and forced off the road, and we’ve been here less than twelve hours. I’d say that was a pretty strong first day.”