Robert Walker - Cutting edge

“My wife's collection,” Bryce noted. “She loves the sounds they make. Me, sometimes it drives me nuts.” He gave a full-throated laugh. “Come on inside where we can get comfortable.”

On entering the beautifully kept house, nothing aside from books and newspapers out of place, Lucas was struck by the number of photos lining the walls and each mantel and table, pictures of children and grandchildren.

Meredyth noticed, too, asking Bryce how many grandchildren he had. He laughed, his face beaming. “I stopped counting at sixteen!”

'Then you must have had quite a few children of your own,” she continued with the small talk.

“Seven, two daughters and five sons, but who's counting?

Can I get you two coffee, a drink, anything?”

“We wouldn't want to impose on Mrs. Bryce,” replied Meredyth.

“Who said anything 'bout Mrs. Bryce? No, no, she's off to her sister's place for a week, and as you see, all my children have grown and have families of their own now. I gave them each a parcel of land here, kinda as a bribe, to keep them all nearby, you see. Now, what about that drink?”

“I could use a whiskey, scotch if you have it,” confessed Lucas, looking about, seeing several mounted hunting trophies on the wall, an enormous elk, a Rocky Mountain longhorn goat, and even a buffalo, which Lucas's eyes lingered over.

“Purchased that one,” confessed Bryce, a bit sheepishly. “Against the law to actually kill a buffalo nowadays, you know. Found it at a place that sold all sorts of Indian artifacts and antiques in Carson City, Wyoming. The wife and me, we both thought it would set off the place, give it the kind of rustic look we were looking for.”

There were hawks and stuffed eagles in the corners as well, their long-dead eyes as piercing and sharp in death as in life.

“White wine,” Meredyth suggested for herself.

“Coming right up. Make yourselves at home.”

“Beautiful surroundings,” Meredyth said, taking a seat, but feeling a bit uneasy under the gaze of so many deadeyes.

Lucas nodded and pointed at a Remington painting of several trail-weary soldiers circa 1870 on horseback, just returning from what appeared a failed Indian campaign, one of their number slung across a saddle. He then stepped over to admire Bryce's impressive gun case and collection of rifles. “Invested well, wouldn't you say?”

In a moment, Bryce was back with the drinks, asking them to please use the coasters. “Otherwise, I'll catch hell from Delia about it when she gets back. Woman can spot a water ring from a hundred yards,” he joked, making Lucas flash on the coasters he himself had spotted at Judge Mootry's the night he had gotten past the yellow tape at the old man's mansion. It occurred to Lucas that Bryce may well have traveled in the same circles as Mootry, and most certainly would have known of him and his charitable work.

“How well did you know Judge Mootry?” Lucas found himself asking as he took the drink from his chief.

“Well, of course, our paths crossed many times over the years, both of us being in law enforcement, but we seldom saw each other outside of city business. We weren't on any commissions or committees together, and we didn't share common interests, if that's what you're wondering. I was stunned, of course, to learn he had died in so brutal a manner.” He turned to Meredyth, handing her wine to her.

“All right, so let's get down to this sorry business you've come to discuss with me. Just what have you got on Lawrence, Dr. Sanger? Lucas?”

Lucas, satisfied with Bryce's response and coolness, nodded to Meredyth, who dug out the papers given them by Randy Oglesby, the ones he'd traced to Phil Lawrence's computer. Lucas explained to Bryce exactly what he was staring at as the older man's eyes traveled over the documents.

“This… this is alarming,” he said, putting his gin and tonic aside. “My God. I must admit, when you first called, Stonecoat, I thought it just a bit strange, and wondered if you were perhaps lashing out at your captain for slights you may have felt when no promotion had come through for you, but this… if it can be believed…”

“Believe it, sir.”

Meredyth backed Lucas. “We do.”

“Well, Meredyth, given the history of bad blood between you and Phil, again, I didn't count on you two having actually dug up anything of this nature, you see. I really need time to digest all this. Damn, damn that Lawrence. I can't say that I've always admired the man, but I never dreamed of anything so sinister as… as his controlling a hit squad within the department.”

Lucas and Meredyth explained, as best they could, about the computer murder game being played out, Helsinger's Pit, and about the Vampire List. About how Lucas, Meredyth and Randy had all been threatened, of Covey's sudden prison murder, of how they were ambushed outside Rapid City. When they were done, Bryce sat in stunned silence.

Finally, he made a lightweight joke again, obviously his way of dealing with tragic news. “And the public is concerned about my not living within the city limits… Few people, Lucas, Meredyth, understand my passion for open spaces and horses. My stable is my temple, and my horses… well, let's say, aside from my children and family, they're my best friends. Thing about a horse, Lucas, as I'm sure you know, is that a horse will never intentionally harm you, not like humans so often do.”

It was wonderful sentiment, Meredyth thought, and a sad one.

What's our next step, Commander?” asked Lucas.

He stared at Lucas, set aside the papers they'd brought and shook his head. “I'll need to make a phone call from my den. Don't keep a phone in any other room in the house, except the one beside my bed. Need to call on Richard Bishop, the D.A. We need to bring him in on this. We need to set the wheels of justice in motion, get a grand jury to act and act fast, for indictments to be handed down.”

Meredyth smiled and Lucas grinned at her as Bryce, looking ten years older now than when they'd arrived, ambled off toward his study and the phone. Meredyth got to her feet, paced the room, her nervous energy sending sparks about her, Lucas thought. He went to her, placed his one free hand over her shoulder, and she turned, their eyes meeting.

“You did it,” she said to him.

“No, we did it together.”

“You know, I've learned there's much to admire about you, Lucas Stonecoat.” He smiled. “And I you… And, if it's not too bold of me to say, if I can't be your lover, Meredyth Sanger, then at least allow me to be your best friend.”

She blushed, a tear coming to her eye. “I was hoping you'd say something like that.”

“How very touching,” came a female voice behind Lucas. He turned to see Dr. Sterling Washburn, a gun raised and pointing at them.

“Dr. Washburn,” said Lucas.

At a second entryway stood Pierce Dalton, also with a gun, saying, “You two couldn't leave it alone, could you? Damn you both.”

Commander Andrew Bryce had long since abandoned the telephone, and now he stood just behind the deadly Dr. Washburn and her gun. Sterling Washburn asked, without taking her eyes off Lucas, “Have they located the other one?”

“They have,” replied Bryce. 'They're at the gate with him. May as well wait until they're all here, and we'll do them all together.”

“Bryce, you bastard,” roared Lucas, “it was you all along.”

“Save your breath, Redskin. You and the doctor brought this entirely on yourselves.”

“And Phil Lawrence?” asked Meredyth. “You planted evidence against him, just in case? Or is he part of your bloody mob?”

“Shut up!” shouted Dalton, his hand nervous on the gun.

“You don't think we came here without a plan, do you, Bryce? We have copies of everything in a safe deposit box,” bluffed Lucas, “with instructions should anything happen to us.”