Jeffery Deaver - Triple Threat

“Jesus. What’s going on?”

Pellam opened the tiny compartment beside the door. He took out his antique Colt .45 Peacemaker, a cowboy gun, and loaded it. Slipped it into his back waistband.

“Trooper’s dead, Rudy’s hurt. Somebody decked me. I think it was your hitchhiker. I couldn’t see for sure but I think so.”

“The poet?”

“Yep.”

“You have a gun? Where’d you get a gun?”

“Wait here.”

Recalling that Taylor would have the trooper’s weapon, he opened the camper door slowly and stepped into the wind.

No shots. And no sign of the man. Where would he have fled to?

He pulled out his cell phone and hit 911.

He got the operator, but five seconds later he was patched through to the sheriff himself.

Pellam didn’t think that was the sort of thing that ever happened in the big city.

# # #

Ten minutes later Hannah joined him outside as Werther showed up.

Hannah Billings was not the sort of person who stayed inside when she didn’t want to stay inside, whatever threats awaited.

The sheriff jumped out fast and ran to the trooper first, then saw there was nothing he could do for the man. He went to his brother-in-law, sitting on a bench in front of the service station. After a word or two with the man he returned to Hannah and Pellam. He made a radio call to see about the ambulance and to call in several other state patrol cars.

And then he pulled his weapon out and pointed it toward Pellam. He arrested him for murder.

Pellam blinked. “You’re out of your mind.”

Werther was his typical calm, the statue of reason. “You told me you weren’t where Jonas Barnes was killed this afternoon.”

“Well, I didn’t know where he was killed. I told you as best I could.”

“Witness saw you standing over the body.”

Pellam closed his eyes and shook his head. “No. I didn’t see a body.”

“And it looked like you were holding a knife. Which is how Barnes died. You started to drag him away into a cave and then you realized somebody was nearby. You ran.”

“Who is this witness?”

“It was anonymous. But he described you to a T.”

Hannah said, “It was Taylor. It had to be.”

Pellam pointed to the ground. “Those footprints! Those’re just what he was wearing. And he attacked me.”

“You say that. I didn’t see it.” He looked to Hannah. “Did you see it?”

She hesitated. “He couldn’t’ve done it.”

“Was he with you?”

Before she spoke Pellam said, “No, I was just coming back from the store up there and I got jumped. Then I found them. Why would I call 911 if I was the guilty party?”

“So you wouldn’t look guilty, of course.”

“Jesus Christ. Taylor’s getting away.”

“Turn around and put your hands behind your back.”

Pellam turned around and gave it ten seconds for Werther to holster his weapon and get his cuffs out. He fast-drew the Colt from his waistband and touched the muzzle against the sheriff’s belly, pulled out the man’s Glock and flung it into bushes across the road.

The man gasped. “Oh, Lord. Please, I got a family…”

“And if you want to see ‘emyou’ll hand the cuffs to your brother-in-law.”

“I—”

Pellam stepped back and now aimed at Rudy. “Sorry, but do it.”

The big man hesitated, looked at the gun, then at the spreading lake of blood around the trooper. He took the cuffs. “Cuff him.” Pellam then barked, “Now! I don’t have time to wait!”

The big man said, “I don’t know how they work.”

“Mister, this’s going to mean nothing but trouble for you for a long, long time.”

Pellam ignored the law enforcer and explained the cuffs to Rudy. Everyone, Hannah included, probably wondered why he knew this esoteric skill.

Motioning Rudy back, Pellam frisked Werther and found plastic hand restraints. He bound Rudy’s wrists behind him. Then, pointing his Colt Hannah’s way, he said, “I’m taking your car… and you. You’re driving.”

“Listen—”

“No, I’m tired of listening,” Pellam snapped. “Move now!”

“Pellam,” Werther called. “You won’t get but a mile. Troopers already have roadblocks up.”

But he was gesturing Hannah into the truck. The big engine fired up and she skidded into the road, the fix-your-seatbelt light flashing but the chime disconnected. Hannah seemed like the kind of woman who couldn’t be bothered with things like safety restraints.

# # #

Pellam slipped the gun away. “Sorry. I didn’t have any choice.”

“No,” she said. The word might’ve been a question.

“I didn’t kill Barnes,” he said. “Or anyone.”

“I didn’t think you had. Why’d you kidnap me?”

“It’s not a kidnap. It’s a borrowing. I need your car… and, okay, I needed a hostage.”

She snickered bitterly.

He continued. “The only way to prove I’m innocent is to find your goddamn poet. He’s not driving out of here either. He’ll be hiding out someplace. The cops’ll be checking all the motels. He’ll camp out somewhere. Caverns or someplace like that, I’d guess. You have any ideas?”

“Me?” she snapped, sounding insulted. “I’m not from here. I was just passing through this fucking place when you rear-ended me. Most I’ve ever done in Hamlin ‘fore today’s bought overpriced gas.”

She took a turn at nearly fifty, inducing a slight skid, which she controlled expertly. Pellam’s knees banged the dash. So she could reach the pedals, she’d moved the seats all the way forward.

She was staying off the main roads.

Pellam thought for a minute. “I’ve got an idea.” He dug in his pocket for a business card.

# # #

The office of Southeastern Colorado Ecological Center was outside of Gurney in an area that looked more like ski territory than desert: pines, brush, grass and scrub oak or low trees that looked like they ought to be called scrub oak even if they weren’t. The building seemed to include offices, a small museum, and an even smaller lecture hall.

A sign announced that people could learn about the relationship between carbon dioxide and “our green friends” next Tuesday at 6:30 p.m. Pellam supposed the audience would be local. He didn’t know who’d drive from Mosby, the next town north, let alone Denver, three hours away, for entertainment like this.

“No troopers. That’s the good news.” Pellam was looking over the three cars parked in the employee lot. None of them were hybrids; that was one of the ironies about the eco movement. Even many people in the field couldn’t afford to practice what they preached. He counted four bicycles, though.

Inside, at the desk, he found the woman who’d been bicycling along Route 14 when Pellam had slugged the rear of Hannah’s truck. Lis, of Lis and Chris.

She looked up with her official visitor-greeting grin. Then blinked as a wave of recognition descended over her. “Today… the accident… Hey.”

And no other reaction. Pellam looked to Hannah and the meaning was, so Werther hasn’t been in touch asking her to report a kidnapper and kidnappee.

“Sorry, I forgot your names.”

“John and Hannah,” Pellam offered.

“Sure. What can I do for you? Is this about the insurance?”

“No, actually,” Hannah said, delivering the spiel they’d come up with in the car. “We’re trying to find that friend of mine? Was in the diner with me?”

“With the crew-cut?”

“Right. He was talking about camping out, maybe around some caverns in the area. But my truck got fixed up sooner than I thought. I want to get back to Hamlin now. He’ll want to come with me.”

“Camping, hm? Hope he brought his long underwear. Gets cold there.”