P Deutermann - Spider mountain

“That them drug cops?” John asked.

“I reckon,” Luke replied. Five minutes later a black Bronco pulled into the overlook with its headlights already off. Baby Greenberg and Carrie Santangelo got out. They were both dressed out in tactical gear. Carrie walked ahead of the DEA agent, carrying a camera with a long telephoto lens. The second vehicle, a 1500 series Suburban, pulled in behind them. The two men inside stayed in the vehicle. One was my “lawyer,” who waved.

“Love your outfit,” she said to me, giving the orange jumpsuit an amused once-over as she went to the overlook wall.

“Got your stuff in the Bronco,” Greenberg said, and then turned to the brothers. “Gentlemen, well done.”

John and Luke acknowledged the compliment without comment, while I went over to the Bronco. I was really pleased to see four sharp-pointed ears silhouetted against the glass in the way-back compartment. I opened the back hatch and the shepherds came out, greeting me effusively. Finally I told them to sit down and then climbed into the backseat of the Bronco to change. Greenberg came over.

“How’d you turn them?” I asked.

“Wasn’t hard,” Greenberg said. “Convinced Big Luke; Bigger John goes along with whatever Big Luke says. Carrie helped.”

“I was afraid they didn’t know what was really going on here,” I said. “That they wouldn’t believe it.”

“Oh, they believed it,” Greenberg said. “Or Luke did, anyway. I think they both have a pretty good idea that M. C. isn’t playing by the rules. And they knew all about Grinny Creigh and her reputation up on Spider Mountain. Actually acted a little scared of her.”

“Smarter than they look, then,” I observed. I climbed back out of the Bronco and threw the rolled-up jumpsuit into the weeds.

“Your weapons and stuff are in the way-back,” Greenberg said. “I also told them about what she did to that kid. They said something interesting, or at least Carrie thought so.”

“Which was?”

“That Grinny Creigh is known for doing things to children. Like some damn witch, as they put it.”

“They’re coming,” Carrie announced from the parapet wall. She had the camera out of its case and was looking through the telephoto. I grabbed my weapons and gear belt and joined the others at the wall.

Down below we could see a small caravan of four vehicles entering town from the mountain end, led by a police cruiser. They were moving slowly through the town, stopping at the two traffic lights that turned red against them even at this hour. When they got to the sheriff’s office compound, the cruiser kept going. The other vehicles, three pickup trucks and another Bronco, pulled into the side street that ran beside the compound. Their lights went off as they drove down into the narrow street past the back of the parking garage. The cruiser continued down the main street, turned left, and left again on the street that ran parallel to and above the main drag. It stopped a block away from where the other vehicles had congregated.

The parking-lot lights put the entire area outside the fence in shadow, so we couldn’t see anyone approach the old jail building. Carrie could, however, and she reported that they were placing a ladder against the outside wall of the old jail.

“One guy’s going up the ladder,” she said, staring through the lens and clicking the trigger. “Someone on the ground’s handing him something. A can, I think. Yeah, a can. A one- or two-gallon gas can, I think. Yes, it’s red. He’s pouring it into the building through a little window. There goes another one. Think you’d have smelled that?” she asked me.

“For a minute or so, probably.”

“Think anyone would have heard you yelling?”

“Probably not.”

“Deputies, want to see what I’m seeing?”

The Big brothers shook their heads in unison. It was apparently bad enough that it was happening, and that no one inside the sheriff’s office was doing anything about it. On the other hand, I thought, they also knew there was no trapped rat in the old jail screaming for help, not that that would have mattered much. Luke’s expression was one of resigned dismay.

“Ladder’s coming down. Wait for it-there she blows.”

We could all see the sudden flare of orange fire inside the old building, first in one window and then through them all. Smoke started up from the eaves of the roof. But there was no alarm, and if there was an internal surveillance system on the parking lot, no one inside the main building would have seen anything out back because there were no windows in the old jail facing the compound’s parking lot.

We watched as the fire took hold in the dry timbers and beams. We saw a man passing by on the sidewalk out in front of the main building stop and stare, and then saw two figures come out of the shadows, grab him, and pull him into the dark alley. Bad time to be a witness, I thought. The shepherds were glued to my side. Then we saw the arsonists’ vehicles appear on the street behind the compound and head back down to where the cruiser was waiting.

“That Mingo’s cruiser?” Greenberg asked. John looked through the camera lens and nodded. The fire was starting to break through the end walls of the roof. I actually thought I could smell it, but knew we were too far above the blaze. The four vehicles passed the cruiser without stopping and turned right back out to the main street, where the trucks went one way and the Bronco the other. Then we saw the front porch lights of a nearby house come on and people run out into the street, staring at the fire. A few minutes later the town fire department siren began to wail. Frack, who loved to howl, started to reply, and I had to tell him to stifle.

Carrie put the camera back into its case and returned to the Bronco. She called the Big brothers over. “You guys were officially off duty, right?” she asked. They nodded.

“Okay, go home. And that’s where you’ve been all evening, no matter what. You keep your ears to the ground, and if you get any hint that Mingo knows how the lieutenant got away, you get yourselves over into Carrigan County and report to Sheriff Hayes.”

“Shouldn’t they just go ahead and do that now?” Greenberg asked.

“Not while Mingo’s thugs are out driving around. Let the dust settle. You guys have a way to know what’s happening in town, don’t you?”

Luke said yes and, as usual, John agreed. Carrie gave Luke a cell phone. “Keep this with you. If you get into trouble, press this button right here twice and it will call one of us. Don’t use it for anything else. Don’t turn it off. If it rings, it will be one of us. And in any event, report to Sheriff Hayes’s office by tomorrow night. Got it?”

“Yes’m,” Luke said, apparently somewhat awed by the sight of a woman giving orders.

“You’ve done the right thing,” Carrie said. “When this is all over, you boys will be entirely in the clear. Now, get going.”

The deputies went to their cruiser, where Luke popped the trunk. He lifted out two tactical shotguns and an ammo belt. He gave one of the guns to John. Then they got in and drove off.

“How long before Mingo figures out what happened?” I asked.

We looked down the mountainside and saw that the darkened cruiser was still parked on the back street. The fire department had arrived, and now the back door of the main building was open, spilling light and deputies into the parking lot. The old jail building’s roof collapsed into the stone walls with a shower of sparks, and then the fire truck’s water streams began to take effect.

“He’s probably been called on the radio,” Carrie said. “So he’ll move pretty soon. Their noses will tell them no one was in the building.”