Red Highway by Estleman Loren D.;

Author:Estleman, Loren D.; [Estleman, Loren D.;]
Language: eng
Format: epub
Publisher: Open Road Media Mystery & Thriller
Published: 2016-03-07T22:00:00+00:00

Part III

Tri-State Terror

It is getting light in the east, but it will be a long time before the sun comes up to challenge the black ceiling of the clouds. The rain is coming harder now, pelting the puddles and washing down the steep hill which the lawmen are climbing. It forms eddies in the gutter, pounds on the empty oil drums beside the nearby service station, and begins to wash away the brown stains on the pavement.

Special agent William Parnum holds his machine gun with the muzzle pointed downward, so that the water will not enter the barrel. The flashlights of his men dart back and forth like fireflies on both sides of the street, probing and searching the darkened garages, sweeping the empty lots and back alleys. No response.

Up ahead, the single unarmed agent is having trouble keeping the hounds’ leashes from tangling. They have calmed down to some degree, and are wandering around, crossing and recrossing each other’s path in search of a scent, their noses loudly snuffling the wet pavement. Their wet coats glisten in the pale beam of Farnum’s light.

None of this makes any impression on the chief of the government men, for his mind is elsewhere. His ears are attuned to every sound outside of those his fellow officials are making, his eyes constantly roving in search of any unexplained movement. Six months ago, four special agents in Kansas City lost their lives while escorting a prisoner to jail because they weren’t paying attention to what was going on around them. Nothing like that is going to happen here, if Farnum can help it. He rubs his eyes occasionally, to clear them of raindrops. He is cold; but so, he knows, is his prey.

From here, the street climbs steadily upward, heading toward the rolling prairie ridges on the horizon. Houses, shops, and offices face each other across the wide street. Any one of them could be a refuge for the one they seek, but the bloodstains continue up the street.

A front door is flung open with a bang on Farnum’s right. He wheels, clapping his Thompson to his hip. A hand appears across a lighted threshhold and a large brown cat is deposited onto the porch. It shakes itself, stretches the length of its legs, and, as the door is slammed shut once again, ambles down the wooden steps onto the street. The lawmen chuckle, the tension relaxes for a moment. Then they resume the hunt.

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