DEADRUN by Dead Run (v1.0 HTML)

Author:Dead Run (v1.0 HTML) [Run, Dead]
Language: eng
Format: epub
Published: 2012-02-21T02:10:27+00:00

18

BONAR WALKED into the Hunter's Inn, spied Halloran hunched over in a back booth, and made a beeline for him, he slid into the cracked vinyl seat with a heavy sigh. He looked every minute of the long day they'd put in so far. "Okay. I sent the prints for our bodies off to that Roadrunner character and moved all the stuff you wanted into my ride, but why you want to drive all over the north woods in a 'sixty-nine Camaro is beyond me."

Halloran tapped the eraser of a stubby pencil on the map he'd been studying. "We're going to meet up with Magozzi and the rest of them at Hamilton, right?"

"Right. I figured we'd pop down to the state highway and make some good time, but you know darn well the Camaro's Smokey bait. They wouldn't stop us in the county SUV. If we kept the lights going, we'd have clear sailing."

Halloran leaned back and rubbed at his eyes. "We've got about a half an hour on Magozzi's crew. Thought we'd take the northern route."

Bonar worked his thick eyebrows halfway up his forehead. "Through Missaqua County?"

"Might as well take a look-see on our way. If the Feds are hot enough to pull Ed Pitala's patrols off the road, I'm guessing they'll have some blocks set up to stop any other cops that might wander in. Civilian traffic is another thing. No way they can stop that. And a 'sixty-nine Camaro's about as civilian as you can get."

Bonar puffed his cheeks in a miserable exhale and signaled to Joe over at the bar. "If we get stopped at the Missaqua border by a few hundred gentlemen in really nice suits, I think the uniforms might give us away anyhow. Unless, of course, you're planning on just mowing them down with the shotgun and riot gun you had me stash in the backseat."

Halloran slurped a sip of the best coffee in Kingsford County. "After the way they've jerked us around today, I'm beginning to think that might be a pleasant way to spend a Saturday night."

Bonar rolled troubled eyes up to the stuffed jackalope mounted to the wall over the booth and grimaced. "Man, what're we doing here? You know I hate this place."

"Best food around, and you wanted to eat before we took off. The diner's closed, and there's nothing on the road where we're headed. Cheeseburger rare, heavy on the onions, and every side old Joe's got back there on the grill."

Bonar smiled a little. "You got me onions when we're riding together?"

"I figured you'd be real polite and hold your breath the whole way."

"At least you didn't pick the booth with the stuffed cat."

"Even I can't stand that one. Used to pat that cat every time I came in here."

Bonar took a quick look around the dark interior, then wrinkled his nose and pretended he hadn't seen a thing. The place was made from hand-hewn pine logs pulled down by Joe's grandfather a hundred years ago, and every few feet, the glass eyes of some dead animal or other stared down at you.

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