Chill Factor - Page 92
“Excuse me? Chief?” Harris, the young cop they’d met earlier at the lodge, poked his head around the privacy curtain.
“What is it?”
“Dispatch called my radio. Mr. and Mrs. Gunn are at headquarters.”
“Shit,” Burton hissed. “They’re all I need. Tell whoever’s there to tell them that I’m in the hospital, to go home, and I’ll get over to see them as soon as I can.”
“He already tried that,” Harris said. “Didn’t budge them. Because it’s not you they want to talk to. It’s . . .” He nodded in Begley’s general direction. “They want to know is it true that Ben Tierney is Blue.”
Begley saw red. He managed to keep his volume at a reasonable level, but his voice vibrated with fury. “I hope you’re joking.”
“No, sir.”
Begley advanced on the young cop. “Who told them? Who told them we were interested in Tierney? If it was you, Officer Harris, I’ll pin your badge to your scrotum and weld it shut.”
“Wasn’t me, sir. I swear. It was Gus Elmer. The old man out at the lodge?”
“We told him not to mention our investigation to anyone,” Hoot said.
“I don’t think he meant to,” Harris said. “He didn’t talk to the Gunns directly. He called his cousin to check on her, see how she was faring the storm on account of her stove has a faulty flue? And he sort of let it slip.”
“Let it slip?”
Begley’s bellow roused Hawkins from his drug-induced stupor, and he groaned loudly. Harris took a cautious step back. “His cousin does Mrs. Gunn’s ironing,” he explained, sounding apologetic. “I guess she felt she owed it to them to, you know, to tell . . .” He stammered, then fell silent beneath Begley’s stare.
“Who else does Mr. Elmer’s cousin do ironing for?” His sarcasm escaped Harris. While the cop was pondering his answer, he turned to Dutch Burton. “I’d like to use your office for this interview with the Gunns.”
“Fine, but I’m coming, too.”
“What about your face?”
“I’ve got some cream I can put on it.”
They trooped out. Begley glanced at Cal Hawkins as he passed his bed. Hooked up to IVs, he’d lapsed into unconsciousness. Despite defending him to Burton, he didn?
?t have any sympathy for the man.
Once they were in their car and under way, Hoot said, “I thought you planned on talking to the Gunns anyway, sir.”
“I was going to call on them as soon as we left the hospital.”
“They why did you get so upset in there?”
“I hoped to scare them into believing how important it is that we keep a lid on this investigation. We need to have Tierney in custody before too many locals learn that we’re even looking at him.”
“You see how fast gossip travels.”
“That’s what worries me, Hoot. If we don’t pick Tierney up soon, I’m afraid a band of Bubbas, led by the chief of police himself, will assume he’s Blue and take matters into their own hands. Righteous indignation beats the law of the land every goddamn time in situations like this.
“These good ol’ boys, out to protect their womenfolk, may revert to the unwritten law of the hills. If they got to Tierney before we did, he’d be lucky if his rights were read to him as he lay drowning in his own blood. And wouldn’t that be a party and a half? The media would have a field day. They’d harken back to Ruby Ridge and Waco. The gun control fanatics would be all over it. We’d be left with one hell of a clusterfuck.”
“And many unanswered questions.”
“Precisely. Like where to find the five bodies.”
They drove in silence for a moment, then Hoot said, “You said you’re afraid they’ll go after Tierney, assuming he’s Blue. What if he isn’t?”
Begley frowned. “That’s another thing I’m afraid of.”
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