Bear Claw Bodyguard. Jessica AndersenЧитать онлайн книгу.
keep the cops away from the Forgotten.” The Investor—that was what he’d told Percy to call him from the very start of their association—sounded more than irritated. He sounded coldly furious. Murderous, even.
Uh-oh. Going on instant alert, Percy searched his memory banks for even a hint of trouble, and drew a blank. “I did. They are. Chief Mendoza pulled his people off the militia investigation and prioritized the drug case last week. There’s nothing going on out in the Forgotten.”
“You’re out of the loop, Mayor. There was a cop there today, Jack Williams, along with a woman scientist.”
“Bull. They wouldn’t—” But given his increasingly strained relationship with the Bear Claw P.D., it was possible that they had cut him out. Or rather, that they had delayed crucial info as long as possible, knowing he would clamp down on anything that sounded expensive. Ice chased through his veins and he went into damage control mode. “What happened?”
“One of my scouts found their vehicle and tracked them into the hot zone. They were less than a mile away from the encampment when he found them. Unfortunately, he couldn’t pin them down, and his comm malfunctioned, so he had to go back on foot for help, and by the time he returned with a team, they were gone. Which means they made it back down to the city most likely, and you don’t have much time to clamp down on whatever kind of a response your people are putting together. And I mean clamp down, Proudfoot. The Forgotten is my territory, bought and paid for.”
“I know. I … Damn it.” Percy’s mind raced as he sorted through his options, knowing he would have to be very careful right now, not just to get the Investor’s needs met, but his own as well. There was an election coming up, after all. If he spun this right … yeah. He could make it work. “Okay, I can handle this, no problem. But I could use your help …”
WITHIN A COUPLE of hours of Jack calling in the attack, Tucker and several other cops were up at the observatory taking statements and starting the process of reorganizing the Shadow Militia task force. At least that was the plan, but then things started to get strange.
“Well, this puts a new spin on things,” Tucker said, his expression thoughtful as he clicked off his phone—which was the only satellite-enabled phone the P.D. had managed to fund, despite repeated requests.
“A guy seriously walked in off the street, handed over his hunting rifle and confessed to going after me and Tori?” Jack asked, having picked up the gist from his boss’s side of the conversation.
They were sitting in the downstairs main room of the observatory, Jack on one of the sofas, Tucker in a big club chair. Tori was upstairs and, outside, the floodlit parking area was starting to get busy, as more cops and feds arrived and the militia task force started assembling prior to making the trek out to the Forgotten at first light.
Except now it sounded like it might not have been the militia after all.
Tucker nodded. “A drifter named Wayne Gibbs. He’s got priors in California for aggravated assault, is strongly antigovernment, and says he’s been camping in a cave a little ways away from where you and Tori were searching. As far as he’s concerned, he was just protecting his homestead. And, yeah, he’s got a prescription for antipsychotics that hasn’t been filled since summer.”
“Damn.” Jack shook his head, not just because it sounded too convenient, but also because he could actually see it. Hell, he had seen it: a couple of years earlier, there had been a similar case when an ex-marine decided the country owed him some land. The guy had moved his camper and his junkyard dog onto a chunk of land near Station Eight and claimed squatter’s rights, then went after a couple of rangers with his shotgun when they tried to run him off.
And that wasn’t the only instance of people squatting on state and federal land in the area either. Between the economy and the loss of most of Bear Claw’s homeless shelters due to budget cuts, there were more and more indigents trying to scratch a living wherever they could, including the state park.
They were usually found pretty quickly, though. Which begged the question, “Why did it take us this long to notice him?”
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