Winter Kill - lanyon Josh (электронные книги без регистрации TXT) 📗

“Me?”

“The Federal Government in general, and you and my deputy in particular.”

“Let him sue.” Rob’s expression was flinty. He carried over two mugs, handing one to Adam, and leaned against the door frame of Frankie’s office.

“I have to agree,” Adam said. “The minute he opened up on our searchers with an assault rifle, any legal standing he might have had became shaky.” All the same, it was not good news. And it would not be greeted as good news by his SAC. This would be the second citizen in less than a year who was threatening Adam with legal action.

“I think there’s room for negotiation,” Frankie said.

Mid-sip, Rob paused. “What exactly does that mean?”

“It means I think there’s room for negotiation.”

Rob opened his mouth and Frankie said, “He says he’s got information for us on our killer.”

There was a short, sharp silence. “Let me get this straight,” Rob said. “You’re suggesting we make a deal with him?”

Frankie rolled her eyes. “Now don’t go getting all bent out of shape until you hear what I have to say.”

“I’m listening.”

Frankie looked at Adam. “This concerns you too.”

Adam hadn’t planned on going anywhere. He said mildly, “All right. Go on.”

“He says he didn’t shoot first.”

“Bullshit,” said Rob.

Frankie looked at Adam. “I think it’s bullshit too. But…we weren’t there,” Adam admitted.

Rob looked outraged. But it was the truth. Adam and Rob had not been with Zeke’s party. They could not say for certain who had fired first.

“He says someone tried to kill him. And he says it’s not the first time.”

“Horseshit,” Rob said. Evidently bullshit couldn’t cover this degree of lying. “What does Zeke say?”

“Zeke went down to Portland to break the news about Azure to her family. I’ll talk to him about it when he gets back. Here’s the thing of it. I don’t think Gibbs is lying.”

“What?” Rob quit leaning on the door frame and drew himself straight.

“I don’t mean about yesterday. I don’t know about yesterday,” Frankie said. “I do know genuine fear when I see it in a man’s eyes, and I believe that someone has tried to kill Gibbs in the past. Maybe not yesterday, but I think part of why he reacted the way he did was because of these past attempts.”

Adam said, “Sheriff, Gibbs has an arsenal of illegal weapons in that cabin of his. He opened fire on law enforcement, federal agents, and innocent civilians. He threatened to shoot Rob, and I have no doubt he’d have done his damnedest to shoot me or anyone else in his way as well.”

“But he didn’t shoot anyone. For all that gunfire, nobody got shot. The only injury was a sprained ankle, and Bobby Kane knocking herself cold when she ran into a tree trunk.”

“He’s a lousy shot,” Rob protested. “How is that a legal defense?”

“Haskell, will you sit down and open your ears? The fact of the matter is that Zeke’s search team was trespassing on Gibbs’s property. Nobody talked to Gibbs, nobody warned him of what was going on. It’s not like he’s keeping up with current events.” Frankie headed off Rob’s objection before he could voice it. “I know. He doesn’t have a phone. That doesn’t negate his property rights. Gibbs’s story is he saw an armed man climbing up the hillside, and that the man fired on him. Now whether anyone fired on him, I don’t know. His story is he was just trying to scare off his would-be attacker.”

“That’s the dumbest story I’ve ever heard!”

Frankie eyed him with grim sympathy. “I’m not denying I think Gibbs is a few saltines short of a cracker box. But I think he’s telling the truth as he knows it. He believes someone is out to get him. Has been trying to get him for years. And he mistook yesterday’s search efforts for a full frontal assault.”

“Years!”

Adam said, “Why would someone be out to get Gibbs?”

There was a funny gleam in Frankie’s eyes. “He says he saw our murderer. And that the murderer knows he saw him.”

“I’m confused,” Adam said, and that was an understatement. “How could this murderer have been after Gibbs for years when Cynthia Joseph was only killed four nights ago?”

“That’s just it,” Frankie said. “Gibbs isn’t talking about whoever killed Cynthia. He’s talking about our other murder.”

Rob raised his head. “What other murder? Is he talking about the dead hiker? Or Dove Koletar?”

“No. Well, maybe. I’ve wondered about that one from the first. But no, Gibbs is talking about Jordan Gaura.”

Chapter Eleven

“Hm.” That was all Adam said. Which was sort of annoying—as was his thoughtful tone of voice. As though none of this was coming as any great surprise.

Rob said, “Just how the hell many murderers are supposed to be living locally?”

Adam said, “The Pacific Northwest does produce more than its share of serial killers. I guess it’s too soon to have the ME’s report on Gaura?”

“You guess right. They haven’t even finished excavating him,” Frankie said. “I figure it wouldn’t hurt to speak to him though. Right? Gibbs, that is.”

“What’s the deal?” Rob asked.

Frankie looked blank.

“The deal you want to strike with Gibbs? We drop all charges in exchange for the name of Gaura’s murderer?”

“I haven’t promised anyone any deal,” Frankie said. “But you should consider the fact that it’s a way to get your—Agent Darling and yourself off the hook. And maybe we’ll get some information we need.”

Adam met Rob’s eyes. “I wouldn’t mind hearing what he has to say.”

“I don’t mind hearing what he has to say,” Rob said. “But I’m not in favor of cutting any deals. In my opinion Gibbs is crazy and he needs to be locked up. He’s a danger to society and to himself.”

“I’m not so sure a good defense attorney couldn’t knock that argument on its ass,” Frankie said. “But it’s your head on the chopping block. Why don’t you talk to Gibbs and then see how you feel?”

* * * * *

A skimpy breakfast and a night on the lumpy mattress in their holding cell had put Gibbs in a talkative frame of mind. Cooperative or not, he was not an attractive specimen, but then Rob was predisposed not to like anyone who had pointed a rifle in his face.

Gibbs was a wiry five eleven with balding, sandy hair, and eyes of a reddish brown color that reminded Rob of a white rat. The rat resemblance was bolstered by Gibbs’s nervous habit of twitching his nose.

“I didn’t actually see his face,” Gibbs hedged. “But it was Bert Berkle. I’m sure of it.”

“Bert Berkle?” Rob repeated in disbelief.

Gibbs raised his chin defiantly. “That’s right. His southwest property line runs along mine. He used to hunt over that way.”

“Yeah, I know,” Rob said. “And I also know you two have been feuding over that property line for the last twenty years.”

Adam asked, “If you didn’t see Berkle’s face, how are you so sure it was him?”

“He was a big man, Berkle’s size. He was a hunter. And when he spotted me, he took off back across Berkle’s property.”

“How the hell does that prove anything?” Rob asked. “Berkle is not the only big man in this county, or the only hunter, or the only hunter wandering around in those woods.”

“Tell us what you remember about Jordan Gaura’s murder, Mr. Gibbs,” Adam said.

“Oh, now it’s Mister Gibbs,” Gibbs retorted nastily. “Don’t think I’m not going to remember you, Mister G-man.”

“We’re wasting our time,” Rob said to Adam. “He’s full of shit.”

“I’m not!” Gibbs said. “I’m telling you what I saw. You just don’t want to believe it, that’s all.”

Ever patient and persistent, Adam said, “What exactly did you see?”

“Well, I didn’t see everything,” admitted Gibbs.

“You’re kidding,” Rob said sarcastically. Adam shot him an impatient look.

“Go on,” Adam said. “Start at the beginning. Do you remember the date? What time of day was it?”