Lake Silence

CHAPTER 34

Grimshaw

Sunsday, Juin 20

Pulling into the truck stop, Grimshaw parked next to the other police car and sat for a minute. He still worked for Captain Hargreaves, was still on the Bristol payroll as a highway patrol officer since his stint in Sproing was a temporary assignment. So he had to wonder why he wasn’t being asked to report to the Bristol Police Station instead of his captain going off the clock to meet him here—because he was sure Hargreaves had taken personal time instead of officially meeting one of his officers.

Grimshaw slid into one side of the booth and set his hat and a manila envelope on the seat. “Captain.”

“This . . .”

Hargreaves broke off and smiled at the waitress who hustled up to their table. He ordered the steak sandwich special and iced coffee. Grimshaw ordered the same to save time.

“This should have been an easy assignment,” Hargreaves said. “A human killed by one of the terra indigene? It’s unfortunate, but everything points to the man being seen as an intruder.”

“Should have been easy, but that death turned over a rock and a lot of nastiness has crawled out.” Grimshaw picked up the envelope and slid it across the table. “My report. Didn’t want to send it by e-mail.”

While Hargreaves read the report, Grimshaw stared out the window. Vicki DeVine should be safe in The Jumble. A sharpshooter might set up across the lake or on the water and try for her when she went for a swim, but it would be a suicide mission because he didn’t think anyone could get away fast enough once the shot was fired. But Julian? Someone could walk into Lettuce Reed and open fire. If the attack was timed right, he and Osgood wouldn’t be nearby, and no one else would take on an armed man.

No one human, anyway.

Hargreaves tucked the report back in the envelope and set the envelope under his own hat. “I heard that Swinn is taking personal time. So is Reynolds.”

“What does that mean?”

“It means they can spend time in Sproing without having to explain themselves to their own captain.”

“If they break the law, I’ll toss their asses in a cell until you can arrange for them to be transferred to the Bristol lockup.”

Hargreaves smiled again when the waitress brought their meals. The smile faded as soon as she walked away. “It was easy enough to request Swinn’s and Reynolds’s transcripts from the police academy. Both men attended the academy in Hubbney, but not at the same time; there is almost a decade between them in age. Finding out about the other men . . .” Shrugging, he picked up his sandwich and took a big bite.

“If this does have its roots in some kind of club or organization that these men joined while they were at school, there’s no way to tell if you’re asking for help from someone who might be part of the scheme,” Grimshaw said. The steak sandwich looked good, but he didn’t have much appetite.

“I made a roundabout inquiry into the other men—where they went to school, that sort of thing,” Hargreaves said. “The request will reach an agent in the governor’s Investigative Task Force.”

“Who might have a special tie clip.”

“Doubt it. The agent is Governor Hannigan’s nephew and is trusted by the terra indigene. If anyone can make inquiries without sounding any alarms, it’s him. In the meantime . . .”

“I’ll maintain order in a town that is so small its main street doesn’t have a single stoplight and yet has been as much trouble as a tavern brawl on a Watersday night.” Grimshaw bit into his sandwich. Which would be worse: being responsible for a friend’s survival and possibly failing or someday picking up a newspaper and reading about Julian Farrow’s murder?

No contest. Being nearby was the only way to succeed.

Hargreaves drank half his iced coffee. “I’ll apologize for sticking you with this assignment if that makes you feel better. But, Wayne? Consider what might be happening in Sproing right now if someone connected to Swinn and the rest of them had answered that call for assistance instead of you.”