‘I’m not worried. I can prove I had nothing to do with the shooting of the cops.’
‘There’s always Jessica and her father. They still think you were responsible for that,’ Bryce said.
‘That was before the real killer targeted Imogen. Her testimony can clear things up.’
Rink stirred. ‘Not necessarily, Hunter. Before he died, Linden Case named you as his attacker and his daughter’s murderer. Even if they don’t arrest you they’ll have to talk to you about it. They’ll want to know every detail about how the two cops died in Tampa. Whether you’re behind bars or not, you won’t see the outside of a police station any time soon.’
His words made sense, but I wanted to reassure myself of Imogen’s safety more than I was concerned about my liberty. Also, I was growing tired of running from something I was innocent of and the few hours it would take to clear my name would be time well spent. I’d rather be chasing this man without having to keep one eye over my shoulder in case a well-meaning cop put a bullet in my spine.
‘If I’m still inside when Harvey gets back to you, it’ll be down to you guys to take the asshole out.’
Rink grunted assent, but Bryce looked fearful at the notion.
Arriving at Ellsworth, we took a spin past City Hall and the adjoining HCSD office building.
‘We don’t know for sure if she’s even in there,’ Bryce said.
‘If not, I’ll find out where they took her. If I’m under arrest I’ll demand my phone call and let you know.’
Rink found a motel where they’d wait for my return. I unloaded my SIGs and my Ka-Bar and all the fake documents I had on my person: no reason to give the cops another reason for holding me. I took off the heavy coat and hat as well. No sense in walking into a police station and giving the impression that I’d come packing an arsenal under my clothes. Take everything very easy and reasonable and the cops should reciprocate. Though I’m not a great believer in words like should or could; in my experience things never seem to go that way.
It was a short walk to the sheriff’s office. I side-tracked to a 7-Eleven and picked up a super-large coffee. The caffeine injection helped clear the fog of all the travelling I’d done lately, but it also made my stomach growl – or maybe that was the nerves kicking in. Despite what I’d said to Bryce about clearing my name, I could very well be booking myself a cell in a high-security prison.
When I walked in the door and presented myself at the enquiry desk the front office was deserted. Not surprisingly: everyone was out at Culver or searching Trenton for where the killer had left his getaway boat. Typical, I thought, America’s most wanted man wants to hand himself in and staff shortages makes things impossible.
I pressed a buzzer and waited.
No one was in a rush to answer, so I pressed it again and kept the button depressed. I could hear the annoying buzzer sounding in the room next door. Finally a door opened and a fresh-faced young woman, dark hair pulled back in a ponytail, walked into the front office. She smiled: a fixed response.
‘Hello,’ she said. There was no hint of recognition in her face. She was carrying a ring folder and bent down to place it on a shelf under the counter separating us. When she stood up again, I read her name badge. Caroline Lehrer, a civilian support worker. ‘How may I help you, sir?’
‘I think a friend of mine might have been brought here.’
I saw her eyes widen slightly, but it wasn’t in alarm. Sometimes I got the same reaction when people heard my accent. Usually they ask if I’m from England. But Caroline Lehrer was more professional than that and allowed her curiosity to slide. ‘If your friend was arrested they’d be over at our State Street offices.’
‘Witness,’ I corrected. ‘She’s the victim of the kidnapping earlier today.’
Caroline’s shoulders tightened at my words and she studied me more intently. She was
‘There’s always Jessica and her father. They still think you were responsible for that,’ Bryce said.
‘That was before the real killer targeted Imogen. Her testimony can clear things up.’
Rink stirred. ‘Not necessarily, Hunter. Before he died, Linden Case named you as his attacker and his daughter’s murderer. Even if they don’t arrest you they’ll have to talk to you about it. They’ll want to know every detail about how the two cops died in Tampa. Whether you’re behind bars or not, you won’t see the outside of a police station any time soon.’
His words made sense, but I wanted to reassure myself of Imogen’s safety more than I was concerned about my liberty. Also, I was growing tired of running from something I was innocent of and the few hours it would take to clear my name would be time well spent. I’d rather be chasing this man without having to keep one eye over my shoulder in case a well-meaning cop put a bullet in my spine.
‘If I’m still inside when Harvey gets back to you, it’ll be down to you guys to take the asshole out.’
Rink grunted assent, but Bryce looked fearful at the notion.
Arriving at Ellsworth, we took a spin past City Hall and the adjoining HCSD office building.
‘We don’t know for sure if she’s even in there,’ Bryce said.
‘If not, I’ll find out where they took her. If I’m under arrest I’ll demand my phone call and let you know.’
Rink found a motel where they’d wait for my return. I unloaded my SIGs and my Ka-Bar and all the fake documents I had on my person: no reason to give the cops another reason for holding me. I took off the heavy coat and hat as well. No sense in walking into a police station and giving the impression that I’d come packing an arsenal under my clothes. Take everything very easy and reasonable and the cops should reciprocate. Though I’m not a great believer in words like should or could; in my experience things never seem to go that way.
It was a short walk to the sheriff’s office. I side-tracked to a 7-Eleven and picked up a super-large coffee. The caffeine injection helped clear the fog of all the travelling I’d done lately, but it also made my stomach growl – or maybe that was the nerves kicking in. Despite what I’d said to Bryce about clearing my name, I could very well be booking myself a cell in a high-security prison.
When I walked in the door and presented myself at the enquiry desk the front office was deserted. Not surprisingly: everyone was out at Culver or searching Trenton for where the killer had left his getaway boat. Typical, I thought, America’s most wanted man wants to hand himself in and staff shortages makes things impossible.
I pressed a buzzer and waited.
No one was in a rush to answer, so I pressed it again and kept the button depressed. I could hear the annoying buzzer sounding in the room next door. Finally a door opened and a fresh-faced young woman, dark hair pulled back in a ponytail, walked into the front office. She smiled: a fixed response.
‘Hello,’ she said. There was no hint of recognition in her face. She was carrying a ring folder and bent down to place it on a shelf under the counter separating us. When she stood up again, I read her name badge. Caroline Lehrer, a civilian support worker. ‘How may I help you, sir?’
‘I think a friend of mine might have been brought here.’
I saw her eyes widen slightly, but it wasn’t in alarm. Sometimes I got the same reaction when people heard my accent. Usually they ask if I’m from England. But Caroline Lehrer was more professional than that and allowed her curiosity to slide. ‘If your friend was arrested they’d be over at our State Street offices.’
‘Witness,’ I corrected. ‘She’s the victim of the kidnapping earlier today.’
Caroline’s shoulders tightened at my words and she studied me more intently. She was
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