The two deputies muttered and shuffled their feet, shooting angry looks at the mention of their murdered coworker. The two men were young, probably in their midtwenties, and Zander hoped their emotions wouldn’t affect this outcome. The one named Daigle seemed familiar, and Zander realized he was the deputy who was to go to the beach with Nate the day he died.
“I’ve activated our SERT team,” the sheriff said. “I want them here if we confirm Billy is in that house, but it’ll take at least an hour for them to arrive. The team is made up of some of my deputies, a few Astoria officers, and Seaside officers.”
“Understood.” Impatience swamped Zander. Calling in the specialty team was the right thing to do. They knew how to handle a possible standoff or hostage situation.
“But I don’t want to wait around for them to find out the house is empty,” said Greer. “I’m always in favor of an old-fashioned knock on the door. Ninety-nine percent of the time it solves the situation.”
Zander eyed the two deputies in their heavy vests, belts, and coats. A door knock was simple, but it could turn deadly in a split second. The men looked confident, a hint of adrenaline in their eyes. Zander felt it himself. “I’ll grab my vest.” He popped the trunk on his vehicle, stripped off his coat, and strapped on the vest. He grabbed his jacket with FBI emblazoned across the back and put it on over the vest. The evening was approaching, and he didn’t want anyone to arrive at the scene and mistake him for a suspect.
“Daigle and I will do the door knock. I’ll park in his driveway,” Greer said. “You and Edwards cover the back in case we flush him out.” Greer keyed the mic at his shoulder and relayed their plan to dispatch.
Zander and Edwards jogged down the road to get in place behind the rental home before Greer pulled in the driveway. Before they reached the third driveway, they darted off the road and into the firs that filled most of the large lot. The tree branches whistled and swished high over their heads, and the air smelled of wet dirt, that subtle odor of earthy decomposition. They silently hustled between the trunks until they sighted the back door of the home. The door opened onto a small wood deck with three stairs that led to a cleared space behind the home.
“I’ll move to the other side and let Greer know we’re in position,” Edwards said. He jogged off, and Zander stayed in position behind a fir, the door in sight. A sporadic rain of pine needles peppered him, and small branches clattered as they landed on the home’s roof. Somehow this small stretch of homes still had power. He doubted it would last long.
Lights swept over the house and trees as Greer drove up the driveway. Two car doors slammed.
Zander waited, alternating between watching the back door and watching a window on his side of the home. He listened hard, wishing he could hear voices from the front to indicate whether the operation was going smoothly or not. Edwards wasn’t visible, and Zander assumed he was covering the windows on the far side of the home as well as the back door.
Only the wind in the firs and the plinking sounds on the roof were audible.
The back door opened, and Billy Osburne took two running steps across the deck, leaped over the stairs, and made a break for the woods.
“Runner! We’ve got a runner!” Zander sprinted after him.
The ground was rough, and visibility was limited. His chest heaved as he raced as quickly as he could without tripping. He hadn’t seen a weapon in Billy’s hand, but that didn’t mean he wasn’t armed. He kept Billy in his sights, his white T-shirt a blessing in the dim woods. Ahead and to his left, he saw Edwards barreling between tree trunks. The deputy was closer.
Edwards would have notified Greer he was running. They’re probably somewhere behind us.
“Stop! Police!” Edwards shouted.
Billy paid no attention and continued his mad scramble. Zander turned up his momentum, choosing speed over safety, praying he didn’t fall.
Edwards shouted another warning.
Then Zander lost sight of Billy. He pushed forward, not slowing his pace. Ten yards ahead, Edwards rapidly covered ground in the direction where Billy had vanished.
Zander’s toe caught, and he slammed to the ground and tasted dirt. He was instantly back on his feet and scrambled to make up lost time, his hip and ribs aching where they’d landed on a rock or root. He spotted Edwards and accelerated, his breaths loud in his head.
A white blur knocked Edwards out of Zander’s view.
Billy.
He spotted Edwards on his back, Billy on top of him, his fists slamming the deputy in the face. Edwards wheezed and moaned, making no effort to stop the blows.
Got the wind knocked out of him.
Billy yanked on the officer’s weapon, and Zander dived at the man, knocking him off Edwards. Zander landed on top of Billy, slamming his stomach and head to the ground. The air in Billy’s lungs escaped with a deep woof, and he struggled to force Zander off his back.
Zander grabbed his wrist, swung his arm back until it was straight up, and twisted. Billy froze.
“Holy shit! Don’t break my arm!”
“Don’t move.” Zander kept his knee in the center of Billy’s back, and Edwards, who’d recovered, cuffed the other wrist and then the one Zander was holding. Zander got to his feet, adrenaline still pumping and breathing hard. “You okay?” he asked Edwards.
“Yeah.” The officer was sheepish. “Haven’t had the wind knocked out of me since I fell off a swing set in grade school.”
“Worst feeling ever.”
“You can’t take me in, man! You’ve got to let me go!”
“You’re joking, right?” Zander asked Billy. “We have questions about some deaths in town that I suspect only you can answer.”
“No! No, you need to let me go. He’s going to kill me.” His voice was frantic, his head whipping from side to side as he lay on the ground.
Zander made a show of scanning the woods. “Who? Edwards here? He’s a little pissed you knocked the wind out of him, but I don’t think he’ll kill you over it.”
“Not him. I’m supposed to be gone!”
“Dead gone? Or just gone gone?”
“I’ll be dead gone if he knows you’ve got me.” Billy dug his forehead into the dirt. “Dammit. This can’t be happening!”
The hairs rose on Zander’s neck. The man was scared. Who is he worried about?
“You talking about Kyle?”
“Oh shit. He’s going to kill Kyle first if he finds out I’m still around.” Billy squirmed and pulled at his wrists.
Zander exchanged a look with Edwards, who shrugged.
Greer and Daigle arrived, both blowing hard. Greer slapped Edwards on the back. “Nice job.”
“He popped out and tackled me,” Edwards admitted. “Lost my breath, and he had his hand on my weapon until Zander took him down.”
“Important part is that we have him.” Now that Billy wasn’t sprinting, Zander noticed the white T-shirt was yellowed and grimy, and his jeans were filthy. And this wasn’t from his roll on the forest floor.
“Doesn’t your girlfriend have a washing machine, Billy?”
“Fuck off.”
“Let’s go.” Greer grabbed Billy under one arm and Daigle took the other, and they hauled him to his feet.
Billy stared wild-eyed at Greer. “You’ve got to let me go, Sheriff,” he begged.
Zander started. Are those tears?