A Long December. Donald Harstad
“Let’s call it ‘first-degree-plus,’“I said. “Victim was found in the middle of a county road, wrists bound, and his head blown off.”
This time the silence was a little longer. “No shit?”
“You betcha. Execution-style, as they say.”
“Uh, well, has the state prosecutor been called?”
“Not yet, Carson. We won’t do that until we have an arrest, or a really good suspect. No reason to. Nothing for him to do. Besides,” I added, “you have to be the one to do that.”
“What?”
“The AG’s office only gets involved in county cases if the county attorney requests it.”
“Right. Well then, do you have their number?”
I was having trouble keeping a straight face, and hoped it didn’t affect the tone of my voice. “We’ll get it to you. For now, though, we’re going to be busy just developing a suspect.”
“You don’t have anybody in custody? “Carson sounded worried.
“Oh, hell, no. We don’t have the faintest fuckin’ notion who did it,” I said. It was just too hard to resist.
There was another pause, and then, “Well, what are you going to do if you need help on a search warrant, or something, like an arrest warrant, or…”
“If we need help, Carson, we know where you live,” I said. “We’ll just call.”
“Oh.”
“We’re pretty good with that sort of thing, really we are,” I said. No sense in scaring the kid to death right off the bat. “But if you want, it’s okay for us to take you along when we do the arrest. If you want.”
“I’ll let you know, Carl,” he said, so seriously that it was almost touching.
“Okay,” I relented a little bit. “It’s not really necessary for you to be there; we’ll try to videotape it. Anyway, as soon as the reports get done, we’ll forward copies to your office. Interesting reading so far, and I get a feeling that it’ll get better as we go.”
“Thank you.” He sounded absolutely grateful.
He wasn’t such a bad kid, really. Just not much of an attorney. “Just remember, Carson, don’t do any press stuff until you double-check with us to get the most up-to-date information. DCI will probably brief you tomorrow sometime. Okay?”
“Yes,” he said. “I’m glad they’re involved.”
He meant that. It was almost a guarantee that the State Attorney General’s Office would be available for the case, thereby relieving Carson of any practical responsibility other than making the obligatory phone call.
On that note, I went home, leaving instructions for Dispatch to call me if they got any more calls from anybody regarding our case. Anybody but the media, that is. I was very specific about that.
THE BARN WALL ABSORBED MOST OF THE FORCE OF THE EXPLOSION, but I could still feel the slap of the pressure wave. I wasn’t aware of any fragments making it through the old wood siding, but the overpressure kicked loose a huge amount of dust and straw and hay debris. It was instant blindness.
“Holy shit!” said Sally.
“Stay down!” After a few seconds, I popped up and down at my peephole, trying to see if the figure was still behind the tangled fence without getting my head blown off in the process. That didn’t work. Not really enough time to comprehend anything before I was down again. “Hester, you okay?”
There was a loud, mumbled “Yeah!” that would have been funny another time.
I took a chance and kept my head up for a longer look. Nothing… nothing. Then, so quickly that it made me jump, four or five figures rose in unison and began blazing away at the barn. It was quite a volume of fire, and we all hunkered down as wood chips and pieces of metal-jacketed rounds went whizzing through the boards. More fragments, more dust—almost enough to make me choke.
This time, though, I was back at my firing port as soon as the noise of the firing stopped. I was scared as hell, but I didn’t want to give ‘em a chance to advance toward us.
I saw them. I truly did, and for the first time I got a good look. There were four of them, all standing or kneeling and putting fresh magazines into their rifles. Now, as far as I was concerned, they were fair game.
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