Bone Key by Les Standiford

Author:Les Standiford [Standiford, Les]
Language: eng
Format: epub
Tags: Fiction / Mystery & Detective / General
ISBN: 9781615953097
Publisher: Poisoned Pen Press
Published: 2011-04-17T16:00:00+00:00

Chapter Twenty

“Freeze!” Deal heard one man cry.

“Move a muscle and you’re dead,” a more familiar voice added.

The light in his eyes was blinding. A handheld torch, he realized, trying to shield his face from the beam.

“Police officers,” someone else cried. “Get your hands up.”

Deal did as he was told, turning his face to escape the glare. “Well, look who it is,” he heard as the whole room was bathed in light.

Deal glanced up at the illuminated ceiling fixture, now glowing brightly, then turned back to the doorway, where Conrad and two other deputies stood, pistols trained on him. One of the deputies stood with his hand still at the light switch he’d thrown.

“What the hell are you doing sitting in here in the dark?” Conrad asked.

Deal shook his head. Had he been that stupid? he wondered. Hadn’t even tried the switch in Dequarius’ room? Driscoll would have a field day with that one.

“Aren’t you supposed to read me my rights?” Deal said to Conrad, who glared back at him.

“Fuck you,” Conrad said. He turned to the deputy who had his hand on the light switch. “Put the cuffs on him, Stroud.”

“You’re making a mistake,” Deal said as Stroud holstered his weapon and came forward.

“You’re the one made a mistake, buddy,” Conrad said. “Keep him covered,” he said to the third deputy, who nodded uncertainly.

Conrad gave Deal the look he probably reserved for perpetrators being dragged from a courtroom after sentencing, then strode across the room to throw open the closet door. Deal was already imagining how he’d begin his next phone call to Rusty Malloy when he saw Conrad stop short, as if he’d taken a punch to the solar plexus.

“Sonofabitch,” the big deputy said, staring into the closet in disbelief.

“What is it, Marcus?” The cop who was supposed to be cuffing Deal glanced up.

“Sonofabitch,” Conrad repeated, swiping his arm across a row of empty hangers.

Deal stared over Conrad’s shoulder into the closet. No slacks, no jerseys, no boots, no rows of stacked boxes on the shelf that ran above the length of galvanized pipe where the hangers danced. Deal couldn’t tell whether the odor of marijuana might still be lingering there, but even if it was, that was the only thing the closet held.

“I don’t see anything,” the third deputy said.

Conrad turned a murderous gaze upon his partner, then strode to the painted dresser and began yanking open the drawers. He’d gotten to the last of them when a commotion sounded from the hallway.

“Get your hands off me,” Deal heard a woman’s voice cry, followed by a whacking sound and a yelp of pain.

“Put the club down, ma’am,” Deal heard a man call. Then came a louder thwack.

“Goddamn!” the man cried. “Somebody help!”

Conrad stared up from the empty drawers at his two companions, his face glowing with rage. “Why doesn’t he have cuffs on?” Conrad said, pointing at Deal. But Stroud was already on his way into the hallway, and the third deputy seemed paralyzed with indecision.

Seconds later, Stroud

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