Blood Walk Part 20

"With cream. Throw on my usual, Sharon," he called toward the waitress at the grill, then he set his radio on the counter with the volume adjusted to make it just audible. He smoothed his mustache-red like his sideburns though his hair was dark-and looked Garreth over some more. "Is that your ZX with California plates in front of the Driscoll? You're the one looking for your relatives."

Garreth nodded and poured the coffee. He longed to sit down and talk. Seeing the officer was like meeting a cousin in a foreign country, but the brusqueness of Toews's voice warned him away.

Hamilton rang up the ticket of the last customer and locked the door behind the man. "This is Garreth Mikaelian, Nat. He used to be a cop out there."

Garreth winced. Now he felt as though he had just badged an officer who stopped him in a strange town, to keep from being ticketed.

But Toews immediately thawed. "You were? I'm Nathan Toews." He p.r.o.nounced itTaves. "Where did you work?"

"San Francisco. Homicide."

Toews raised a brow. The unspoken question was obvious:Why did you quit?

Garreth felt compelled to answer it. "My partner got shot up pretty bad and it was mostly my fault. It shook me up."

"Order up," Sharon said.

Garreth picked up the cheeseburger and fries.

Toews poured catsup over the fries. "Too bad you're transient. We've lost an officer and G.o.d knows how long it'll be before we find a replacement."

Hamilton snorted from where he sat counting receipts. "Latta's no loss. He deserved to be canned for a stunt like blowing out the window of the patrol car with the shotgun and claiming someone took a shot at him."

Garreth stared at Toews for a long time before shaking himself.Forget it, man. He thought about the officer's remark, though.

A permanent job would give him an excuse for staying past the end of his alleged search, and being official would help when arresting Lane.

"What's the job like?"

Toews shrugged. "Door rattling, traffic, refereeing domestic disturbances, and picking up drunks weekends, mostly."

Which did not really answer the big question: Could Garreth handle the job? How much would his limitations handicap, if not outright endanger, other officers? And in view of the circ.u.mstances under which he had quit at home, why should these people even want him?

Still, he continued to think about it all the way back to the hotel and while pulling on his running suit for "exercise."

He followed the main street north. From four lanes it narrowed to two on the west side of the railroad tracks, pa.s.sed the railroad station and stock pens with a sale bar and fairground east beyond them, then crossed the Saline River and angled west as Country Road 16. The countryside, which had dropped from the plateau Bellamy sat on into the river valley around Baumen, rose again to rolling plateau, pastureland brightly lighted by the waxing moon and broken only occasionally by a stretch of barb wire fence. Cattle dotted every section, block-square beef cattle, sleek black or curly red-and-white. All, he noticed, appeared smaller than the white behemoth he drank from that first night, but like the Charolais bull, the black steer he finally approached yielded to him, and he fed, wishing he had some way to refrigerate his thermos so he could bring it along and fill it up.

Patting the cow's head in thanks as he stood, Garreth became aware of something else near him. He turned to face another pair of glowing eyes. The animal looked like a small, thin German shepherd. A coyote?

The creature eyed him, and the supine cow beyond. Garreth shook his head. "No. Don't bother it."

The coyote's eyes burned into his. Garreth held them until the cow scrambled to its feet.

Leaving, he found to his surprise that the coyote followed, trotting about ten feet off to the side. When Garreth broke into a run, so did the coyote. It followed like a shadow, not threateningly, he decided, reading curiosity in the c.o.c.k of the carnivore's ears.

Puzzled by his not-quite-human scent? Whyever, he enjoyed the company.

The coyote paced him most of the way back to town, until Garreth pa.s.sed through the fence onto the country road just north of the river. Than it dropped back and faded into the darkness of the prairie. Garreth jogged on into town alone.

He heard a car coasting in behind him as the pa.s.sed the railroad station. Glancing over his shoulder, he identified the light bar of a patrol car and stuck up a hand in greeting.

The engine revved. The car shot past him to swing across his path and come to a tire-screeching halt. A spotlight flashed in his face. Garreth threw an arm up in front of his eyes.

"In a hurry to go somewhere?" a voice asked from behind the light.

d.a.m.n!"I'm jogging." Garreth plucked at his jogging suit.

"In the middle of the night? Sure. Come over here. Put your hands on the car and spread your feet!"

What? Garreth opened his mouth to protest, and snapped it closed again. Resisting would only make trouble. Angrily, he spread-eagled against the car.

The spotlight went out. Moving up behind Garreth, the cop began frisking him. Garreth glimpsed an equipment belt polished to a mirror shine. The cloying sweetness of aftershave masked any scent of blood. "You do this like someone with a lot of experience at it, friend," the cop said.Which was more than Garreth would say for the cop. Almost any of the sc.u.mbags on the street back home could have turned and taken the man in a moment. The cop's idea of a frisk missed half the places a weapon might be hidden, too.

Keeping his voice polite, Garreth explain who he was.

"Oh, the ex-cop Nat met. No wonder you know the routine." The cop stepped back. "I'm Ed Duncan. Sorry about the frisk, but you understand we can't be too careful with strangers. There's a lot of drug traffic through the state. No hard feelings?"

Garreth understood that Duncan had probably been bored out of his skull and used the first opportunity to create some activity.

He resented being the subject of it. "No hard feelings."

Turning, he discovered that Duncan bore a faint resemblance to Robert Redford. From the way the cop walked and wore his uniform, Duncan knew it, too.

The car radio sputtered. Duncan leaned in through the window for the mike. "505 here as always, doll. What do you need?"

Someone had reported a prowler.

Duncan rolled his eyes. "It's probably just the Haas dog again but I'll check it out."

Watching Duncan drive away singing a country western song, Garreth thought again about Toews remark. If someone as cavalierly careless as Duncan could survive here, maybe Garreth's limitations would not cause trouble. In the morning, he decided, he would drop by the station and check out the job more closely.

2

Chief Kenneth Danzig had the build of an ex-football player, and though, he was now in his forties and his waistline was trying to match his shoulders for width, he still looked capable of battering through a defensive line or a felon's door. His blood smelled warm and strong. Seated behind his desk in the office he shared with the padlocked evidence locker, he made the room seem even smaller than its actual limited dimensions. He fingered Garreth's application. "I take it you regret resigning?"

"Yes, sir." Garreth had stated the checkable facts of the resignation frankly. He wished he could read the chief, but small town cop though he was, Danzig wore a city cop's professional mask. "Law enforcement is my life. It's the only kind of job I know or want."

Danzig's face never moved. "Why apply here, though? Why not ask for reinstatement in San Francisco?"

Garreth had been expecting that question. He had a half-true answer ready. "I need a change and this is nice country. I like it more every day I'm here."

Danzig leaned back in his chair. "Do you think working in a small town means a soft job? Or that you'll never face a shoot/don't shoot choice again? Remember the Clutter murders inIn Cold Blood? Those were here in Kansas. York and Latham were another pair of turkeys on a murder spree who came through here. We tried them just over in Russell. We're on the drug traffic pipeline and almost every year there's a hi-po trooper killed making a routine stop on I-70. You get into trouble out here and you're often on your own, with no backup close enough to do you any good."

He made the job sound as dangerous as any city. Garreth drew a deep breath. "I don't expect a soft job. Of course I hope I'll never have to draw my gun again-who doesn't-but I'm not running away from the possibility."I'm just running away from kicking in doors.

"We work semi-permanent shifts. As a new man, you'd have to work nights, and be stuck there until we have a daytime opening and you have enough seniority to claim it. Any objections?"

"No, sir." None at all! "I prefer nights."

Danzig leaned forward. "Considering your history, I wish I could send you to a shrink for a psychiatric evaluation, but the taxpayers of this town can't afford luxuries like that. We're lucky to find officers willing to work here at all. But I don't hire anyone without at least a physical exam. I'll set up an appointment for you with Dr. Staab at the medical center."

He had been expecting that, but cold still slid down Garreth's spine. A doctor he could probably handle, but . . . what about bloodwork? Using his powers, he had talked the doctor in San Francisco out of running bloodwork on that checkup before sending him back to work. The same trick could not work where it was required as part of the physical. He would have to think of something else.Are you crazy, man? Be safe; give it up.

He sat frozen in the chair while Danzig made the phone call and handed Garreth a memo sheet with the appointment time.

"We'll contact San Francisco for your records while you're taking care of this. Now let's fingerprint you to make sure you're who you say you are."

Walking out of City Hall later, Garreth toyed with the memo slip and debated whether to forget the whole thing.Now you see why Lane keeps her head down. She's smart. You're courting disaster, Garreth Doyle Mikaelian. But perhaps he wanted to be found out, he mused, to be destroyed finally and for always.

He stared at the appointment slip for a long time, thoughts churning, before folding it and putting it in his pocket. He might be a total fool, but he wanted the job, and not just to kill time waiting for Lane. He wanted it for himself, wanted a badge again. He wanted to come home.

3

The Lord watched out for fools, even d.a.m.ned ones, Garreth reflected. A week after he stewed over it so much, his stuck-out neck not only remained unchopped but here he stood in a suit and tie, carrying copies of the Kansas Criminal Code and Vehicle Code to study, beginning six months probation. Even the physical had gone smoothly, the bloodwork problem solved by catching the lab tech's eyes and intructing her to destroy the samples she took from him, replace them with samples from herself, and forget she had made a subst.i.tution.

The chief introduced him to the day office staff, a tiny wisp of a secretary named Nancy Sue Schaefer and a pretty but broad- beamed dispatcher, Geri Weaver. Then Danzig led him over to a slim, dark-haired young woman in uniform at a typewriter. "And this is Margaret Lebekov, our Afternoon officer and expert with juveniles and domestic disputes. Maggie, this is Garreth Mikaelian."

Garreth held out a hand, smiling. "Glad to meet you."

She looked up, stared at his hand, and returned to typing. "Yes."

Garreth examined his fingers for frostbite. Terrific. Six officers in the department and one of them hated him on sight. In a sudden spasm of fear he wondered if she, like Grandma Doyle, sensed his unhumanity.

"When you go on your own you'll be on Nights, from eight, taking over from Lebekov, until four AM," Danzig went on. "That overlaps Toews's and Duncan's shifts. Until your uniforms come and you know the town, though, I want you to ride with Sergeant Toews."

"Yes, sir."

"You'll need a Kansas driver's license. The examiner is in Bellamy on Thursdays. Drive down then and take the test."

"Yes, sir."

A look at the three cells and drunk tank upstairs completed the station tour, by which time Lebekov had left, Toews was coming out of the combination interview/locker room buckling on his equipment belt, and a voice on the radio announced that 102 would shortly be 10-19, coming into the office.

Garreth sucked in a deep breath. Shift change. Despite the vast differences in place, the rhythm of it felt as familiar as the beat of his heart . . . Day Watch coming in-one Lieutenant Byron Kaufmann, a beefy veteran with fading red hair-a briefing for Garreth and Toews that differed only in size from every other Garreth had ever attended; checking equipment and the car; pulling out onto the street. It was like coming home.

Toews eyed Garreth sidelong as they rolled down Oak toward Kansas Avenue. "Have you found your grandmother yet?"

"No." He had made daily trips to surrounding towns, keeping up the cover. Perhaps the time had come that he could quit. "I'm beginning to doubt I will."

"But you still want to stick around here?"

Garreth shrugged. "There's no reason to go back to California."

Toews peered in his outside mirror at a battered pickup which pa.s.sed them going the other direction. "That gives us two city boys. Danzig used to be on the Wichita P.D."

The radio mumbled sporadically, but little of the traffic had local call numbers. Garreth quickly gathered that all the area law enforcement agencies used the same frequency. The loudest voice kept drawling, "Bellamy S.O.," the sheriff's office.

Toews saw Garreth listening. "That's Lou Pfeifer, the sheriff. He's usually patrolling somewhere in this end of the county so he can look in on his ranch and his wife and daughters."

"206 Baumen," a woman's voice said. "Requesting a 10-28 on local K-king, five-five-three."

Toews shook his head. "That's the fourth registration I've heard Maggie run since we came on. She's on a rip tonight."

"She didn't seem in a very good mood when Danzig introduced me to her at the station," Garreth said.

"Oh." Toews shifted in his seat. He watched a driver slow but roll through a stop sign across the street. He honked the horn as the car came at them, and when he caught the driver's eye, shook his head. "It says stop, Walt," he called. To Garreth he said, "That's because you have the shift she wants."

Garreth winced. "d.a.m.n."

"It isn't your fault. Danzig will never give it to her because he doesn't believe in women patrolling at night. Do you ride?"

The change of subject threw Garreth. He blinked. "Ride what?"

Toews's brows rose. "Horses, of course. I have a great little mare out of Skipper W that I use for calf roping. I'll take you by to see her in a little while. Whatdo you do when you're not on duty, then?"

The game of Get Acquainted had begun, a friendly mutual interrogation that they sandwiched between calls . . . an elderly woman whose daughter in Hays had been unable to reach by phone all day proved to be healthy, only working in the yard with her hearing aid turned off . . . a motorcycle stopped for speeding had a driver operating on an expired license . . . checking businesses along Highway 282 at the east edge of town they found the Gfeller Lumber gate unlocked. The search for mutual interests went on while they waited for the owner to come out and lock up.

To Garreth's disappointment, they shared almost nothing in common but law enforcement. Between that and the obvious emnity of Maggie Lebekov, Baumen P.D. did not look quite like home after all. On the other hand, it made a decent bivouac and would keep him busy enough not to brood over the uncertain, perhaps nonexistent future beyond collaring Lane.

4

The house was two stories and large by Baumen standards, white-painted brick with a driveway running under a portico on the side. Large old trees shaded it, oaks and maples whose leaves, turned lemon yellow and scarlet, glowed almost incandescent in the autumn afternoon sunlight.

Flame touched Garreth, too, but it was inside, licking at him as they stood before the door.

Toews pushed the bell. A small, elderly, white-haired woman answered the door. Toews touched the visor of his cap. "h.e.l.lo, Mrs. Schoning. Is Helen home?"

The woman nodded. "I'll get her. Please come in."

They followed her into a wide hallway flooded with rainbow light from a stained-gla.s.s window at the turn of the stairs. Mrs.