Dana Mentink - Buried Truth

I’m coming for you.

Oscar was a twisted man, incapable of normal emotions, his troubles probably born of the days he lived with his mother and a steady stream of abusive men, according to the sketchy facts collected about his life. As far as Bill knew, Oscar loved only two things—his mother, who had passed away two decades before, and his son, Autie, now dead after trying to escape arrest.

It did not matter that it was not Bill’s finger on the trigger. In Oscar’s mind Bill had murdered his son. This was not about laws or justice. It was revenge, pure and simple, and Bill hungered for it just as much as Oscar.

The feeling shamed him. He knew what Aunt Jean would say.

Leave the judgment to the Lord, Bill.

Well, the Lord had abdicated the day he let Johnny get blown up.

Without a word, Bill drew his weapon and headed for the trailer.

Behind him he heard Crow gasp.

“Cloudman,” Rudley whispered. “Get back here.”

Keeping to the edge of the foliage as best he could, Bill crept on toward the trailer.

Rudley tried to catch him. “Don’t be stupid. You can’t fix what happened by getting yourself killed.”

But Bill had already left the shelter of the branches and begun running toward the trailer, head low and moving as fast as he dared.

He reached the trailer and plastered himself against the side, listening, the heat from the metal soaking into his skin. No sound. No movement. Edging closer to the tiny window, he noticed a gap in the blinds that would enable him to get a look inside.

Inching along, he saw in his peripheral vision that the other officers had moved in closer to provide backup. They were good men who would die trying to help him even though he was not one of them anymore.

No one is going in there but me.

He would not allow anyone else to die.

Pulling even with the window, he took a deep breath and popped his head up to get a look. All he saw was the darkened interior, no sign of anybody lying in wait.

He eased back to the front door, checking carefully on the ground for any signs that it was rigged to explode, though he knew his checking likely didn’t matter. Oscar was a genius with all things mechanical or explosive, so he wouldn’t leave any telltale signs if he’d wired the door.

Bill eyed the ramshackle structure again, noting another window on the far end, over the hitch. With the other officers closing in, Bill headed for it, climbing up on the tow hitch and risking another look inside. Still no sign of life. Resisting a sudden urge to pray, instead he turned his gun and brought the butt down on the glass.

It shattered, cascading in jagged shards down to the dusty ground. He didn’t wait any longer. Plunging feet first through the window, he hit the floor and crouched, gun ready.

But there was no one. Perfect silence except for the tinkle of the glass that continued to drop onto the worn linoleum floor. Oscar wasn’t here. Bill felt it even before he did a quick search of the small bedroom area and the even smaller bathroom. No one. The tip was wrong. He would not be bringing Oscar Birch down today.

Could be that Oscar had never even been here in the first place. Bill ground his teeth.

He heard shouts from outside.

“Cloudman?” Crow yelled.

Bill checked the door from the inside before opening it. “All clear.”

As the officers piled into the trailer, Bill’s eye was caught by an envelope lying on the kitchen table. He approached warily, but the envelope had not been rigged to explode. Bill slid the contents out.

“Cloudman,” Rudley snapped, face red with exertion and anger. “That was crazy. You endangered your life for nothing after I specifically ordered you to wait.”

Bill’s eyes locked on the photos in his hands.

Rudley spoke louder. “I guess you need reminding that you’re not an officer anymore. You got no badge and no business interfering. We informed you as a courtesy and you blew it.” He stepped forward. “Are you listening to me, Cloudman?”

But Bill was not listening. His fingers were suddenly cold, the icy feeling flowing up his arms and into his heart.

He shoved the photos back into the envelope. “We’ve got to find Heather. Now.”

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