Scorched Earth: (John Rader Thrillers Book 5) by Ian Quarry

Author:Ian Quarry [Quarry, Ian]
Language: eng
Format: epub
Published: 2021-06-07T16:00:00+00:00

20

The three men, seated at the big round table in the far corner of the Mustang Saloon on Main Street, Bestrup, were talking about the situation here in the county. The music from the speakers, a stream of old rock songs, was playing on a loop, and gave the men a sense of atmosphere in the cavernous interior of the building, with its high rafters and open spaces. When a country band played on Saturdays, these spaces were jammed with locals. Tonight, already past closing time, one of the three men, County Commissioner Chuck McKinnon, had told the owner, his brother, that he would lock up when they were done.

‘You realize what a mistake it was to get into anything at all with a guy like Scarano,’ Chuck McKinnon said, holding his beer mug. ‘If something seems too good to be true, that’s because it is. We just better hope this thing blows itself out soon enough.’

The other two men exchanged a glance, Commissioner Ray Halliburton leaning in and watching the moisture dripping from his empty mug.

‘You never had a problem until now,’ Halliburton said. ‘Matter of fact, Chuck, you were one of Lou Scarano’s biggest fans. Wouldn’t hear a word against the guy.’

McKinnon just sat there scowling.

‘We support a new enterprise in this county,’ Halliburton said. ‘That’s part of what we’re about. Promote growth, jobs, prosperity. A business guy from Wisconsin comes out here in the mood to spend a lot of money and create employment, we’re gonna tell this guy to get lost? There’d be a public outcry when the story broke that he’d taken his money to some other part of the west.’

‘Don’t fool yourself,’ McKinnon said. ‘He knew what he was doing. Sage County was the only location that son of a bitch ever had in mind. And you know why? Because of Jim Leech, the fuckin’ sheriff. He didn’t grow rich back in Milwaukee without knowing the importance of being on excellent terms with the local law. Christ.’ He pushed his empty glass forward to join several more, and got up now, heading over to the bar to pour another.

As the Steve Earle song “Copperhead Road” started up, Ray Halliburton turned to the other man, the only one who was drinking whiskey, Commissioner Gale Butcher. Butcher had said nothing now for several minutes. A tall, hawk-faced man with thick gray hair brushed back over his high frowning forehead, Butcher was the oldest of the three by a few years. He glanced at McKinnon, over there by the bar, and leaned closer to Halliburton.

‘He don’t know what trouble is yet. He only thinks he does, ’cause he’s a malcontent, a complainer. All he ever does is bellyache. It’s who he is. He thinks this is just another pain in the ass he’s gotta tolerate so that he can have his fifty-foot yacht and his mountain cabin and his goddamn li’l hot-assed twentysomething blonds.’ Butcher’s eyes narrowed as he shook his head. ‘This thing is only just getting started.

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