Murder on the Lunatic Fringe (Jubilant Falls Series Book 4) by Debra Gaskill

Author:Debra Gaskill [Gaskill, Debra]
Language: eng
Format: epub
Tags: Fiction & Literature
Publisher: D'Llama Publishing
Published: 2014-04-29T04:00:00+00:00

Chapter 22 Addison

Jud Roarke parked his cruiser next to my Taurus. He spoke briefly into his shoulder microphone before he stepped from the black Dodge Charger. A wave of vehicles followed behind, the driveway dust kicked up by their tires glittering in the headlights and taillights.

I waved with one hand, holding Duncan’s double-barreled shotgun in the other.

“Hi, Penny,” he said. “Wait a minute.” He stopped to speak again into his shoulder mic. “Dispatch, this is unit one—”

I cried out as somebody slammed me, face first, across the trunk of the Taurus, twisting one arm behind my back and ripping the shotgun from my hand.

“U.S. Marshal, you’re under arrest!” A man’s voice barked.

Before I could respond, I was handcuffed and pulled back upright by the back of my shirt.

“Hey, that’s my wife!” I heard Duncan cry.

“What the fuck do you think you’re doing?” I demanded. “What’s this about?”

My captor, a muscular man with a graying goatee, wore a black tee shirt beneath his Kevlar vest and a black baseball cap, both emblazoned with U.S. MARSHAL across the front. In black cargo pants and military boots, he looked about medium height; beneath the collar of his black tee shirt, I caught a glimpse of a heavy gold necklace. His automatic rifle was slung across his back and his utility belt carried enough weapons to start a coup. His badge, encased in leather, hung around his neck from a beaded metal utility chain.

Behind him, I counted five other marshals, all dressed in black like goddamned ninjas with badges, pointing their weapons at Duncan, Katya or me. Behind them were seven sheriff’s deputies—representing three-fourths of the ten that patrolled the county at night— standing tactically behind their cruiser doors, weapons drawn.

“Stand down, everybody, stand down,” Jud said, stepping between the marshals and me. His words were smooth and soothing. “Peppin, take off her cuffs. You’re in my territory now. Out here in God’s country, if I arrested everyone just because they held a gun, I’d have half to three-quarters of the county in jail at any one time.”

Peppin growled something under his breath as he spun me around to unlock my cuffs. I rubbed my wrists as I turned to face him.

“You have the honor of arresting the person who reported this crime and who also happens to be the editor of our newspaper,” Jud continued. “Addison McIntyre, I’d like to introduce you to Robert Peppin, U.S. Marshal. He’s based in the Cincinnati office.”

We reached out to shake each other’s hands, but we weren’t pleased about the introduction. Neither of us smiled.

“Our team got a call from Ms. Bolodenka’s cell phone. There wasn’t anyone on the other end and thought it best to respond,” he said.

“So she’s in witness protection?” I asked.

“Is this on the record?” he asked.

“I am looking at the dead body of a man who had lunch at my house on Sunday,” I said. “I’m going to bet there’s been a public radio transmission about this crime, as well as a request for the coroner.

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