Earl Swagger #01 - Hot Springs by Stephen Hunter

Author:Stephen Hunter [Hunter, Stephen]
Language: eng
Format: epub
Published: 2011-08-26T16:22:13+00:00

The police station was in the same City Hall building but without direct hallway access, for arcane architectural reasons. It was actually outside, so they walked around the corner through small-town America to its entrance. At least half a dozen people said, “Howdy, Mr. Sam,” and tipped a hat, and Sam tipped his in return. The trees were in full leaf, so the sun wasn’t so hot and a cool wind blew across them.

“Stop and look,” Sam said as they stood atop the stairs that led to the station. “What do you see?”

“A small town. Pretty little place.”

“Where and how most people live, right?”

“Yes sir.”

“It’s all stable and clean and everything’s right in the world, isn’t it?”

“Yes sir.”

“It’s order. And that’s what you and I, we work to defend, right?”

“Right.”

“We defend the good folks from the bad. From the monsters, right?”

“Yes sir.”

“We defend order. But what happens, Henderson, when you got yourself a situation where the good folk is the monster?”

Carlo said nothing.

“Then you got yourself a fine kettle of fish, that’s what you got,” said Sam. “And you and I, son, we got to clean it up. It’s really the most important thing we do. You see what I’m driving at?”

“Yes sir.”

They walked in, past the duty sergeant’s desk with a wave, back into the day room and the detective squad room—more waves—then past the lockup and the little alcove where there was a vending machine for Coca-Cola and another one for candy bars, down a dim corridor, until finally they reached a room marked EVIDENCE.

Sam had the key. Inside, he found a light, and Carlo saw what was merely a storeroom, boxes and boxes on shelves, the detritus of old crimes and forgotten betrayals. A few guns, shotguns mostly, rusting away to nothingness on the dark shelves. The shelves were labeled by year and Sam knew exacdy where he was going.

They went further into the room, to the year marked 1940 on the shelving. Sam pointed to a box on a high board marked SWAGGER, BOBBY LEE. Carlo had to strain to his tiptoes to get it down, though it was light, being composed of little beyond documents and manila envelopes.

Immediately Carlo saw that the documents were mere photo duplicates of the one he’d already read. But the older man grabbed an envelope, opened it, looked at it, and then handed it over.

“Take a gander,” he said, “and learn a thing or two.”

And Carlo beheld the horror.

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